Road Full of Promise
by LadySanume
Summary: Season 6 for Spuffy lovers, AU off of Once More with Feeling with some canon elements. There's something called a Demon Lord in Sunnydale, and when Spike goes to get a mystical weapon for Buffy he is told that he could someday be her consort... if he makes the right choices. ***WARNING*** Some explicit sexual scenes. The title is from a song by The Avett Brothers.
1. Chapter 1

And then Buffy was kissing him. In a few of Spike's many fantasies, it happened like this - she'd follow him out, throw herself on him (preferably in view of the idiot Scoobies.) Then they'd be making the beast with two backs in his crypt, noisily and for a long time.

But this wasn't like that, at all. It was just the two of them, no Scoobie gasps of horror or Gilesy sputtering. Buffy's kiss wasn't hot and sexy, it was a little frantic and maybe - oh, lord - desperate. So Spike did what he never, ever would do in his fantasies and would damn well curse himself for later, and put his hands on either side of Buffy's face and stopped kissing back. She stared at him, and he expected to see visions of staking him dancing in her eyes from the embarrassment and anger. But instead she looked confused, and then bleak. Lonely. A look that slayed in its own right - how many times had he seen this vulnerability since she came back from the grave? When before the tower, and Glory, it had been never. It hurt him, seeing the warrior in Buffy leached out. Without thinking about it then, Spike leaned back in for a quieter, tender kiss. He left one hand on her face and slid the other down to her birdlike shoulderblade, his long fingers stroking it. Their lips just lay for a moment, warm on each other. Buffy pushed into him a little and Spike used his tongue to trace the outline of her mouth. It was the kind of kiss he'd dreamed of when he was William the inexperienced twat: sweet, slow, but incredibly arousing. He couldn't help himself and drifted his hand down her back to the top of her perfect ass, not squeezing, just floating. But then Buffy flicked her tongue into his mouth and made a little sighing sound and that was it. Spike pulled her into him, moaning at the sensation of her body against his. It lasted for just a moment, until Buffy registered his stiff cock announcing itself and pulled back.

Instead of the disgust - for him, and herself - Spike expected to see in Buffy's eyes, he saw bewilderment, lust, and a hint of humor. She flicked her eyes down and then looked back up with a definite smirk. He was almost annoyed, but then charmed by the immaturity of that response to his very obvious erection. When did Buffy ever get a chance to be a silly 20-something?

And as if on cue, a bunch of silly somethings came tumbling out of the building behind him, for once not shrieking about something. They all looked subdued still, by the revelation of Buffy's having been in heaven. Nonetheless the idea of being around them after whatever just happened between him and Buffy nauseated Spike, so he looked at her once and left as quickly as he could. He wanted to get back to his crypt. He wanted to think, he wanted to imagine that Buffy might care for him, he wanted to watch Passions. Then his own smirk came to Spike's face, because most of all right now, actually, he wanted to have a good wank.

The next evening Spike had done all those things, more than once. He'd also poured a handle of whiskey down his throat and killed a few fledglings in the cemetery and still just wanted to go see Buffy. He could, he knew he could, he could ask if she wanted to patrol and the Scoobies would be none the wiser - although they might try to come and then he'd have to kill them, and then Buffy would stake him and then he'd never get to kiss her again. It wasn't the bloody whelp and the witch keeping him here, though. It was the idea that he might get to 1630 Revello Drive and she would look at him, cold and wanting to pretend it never happened.

"It was a mistake, Spike," he mimicked in a falsetto. Boy, couldn't he just hear that tripping off the Slayer's tongue. If she even deigned to reference the kiss at all. Which she probably wouldn't. And then they'd be back to being platonic chums, with Spike helping kill a few things at opportune moments and Buffy telling him stuff she couldn't bear to tell her friends. Because she loved them, and he loved her. Fuckitall. But wait, his inner hopeful self reminded him, she had kissed him - of her own volition. And that look at the end, it was complicit, it acknowledged his desire, and maybe hers too?

"Getting fuckin' delusional, you wanker," Spike muttered to himself. Striding around the top level of his crypt, he did it again: rehashing the kiss with Buffy, picking apart every little twitch of her lips and remembering her expressions over and over. He played that last moment when he met her eyes in his head. She didn't seem to want company anymore than he did, or was she relieved? Suddenly in a moment of self-disgust at what a nancyboy he was being, Spike grabbed his coat off the back of his chair and headed for the door. Revello it was. Even if the superfriends were there, he was well within his rights as a mean nasty vampire with a jones for the Slayer to skulk around her house at least, wasn't he?

By the time Spike got to Buffy's, though, he realized how late it really was. The windows were dark and even his vampiric hearing detected no voices or movement. Buffy must have already gone patrolling and was sleeping in her little pink and white room, the sleep of the righteous. Spike spared a moment for indignation that the bint hadn't swung by his crypt, if she was patrolling and all, but didn't dwell on it for too long.

Lighting a fag and leaning on his usual stalking tree, Spike mused that he was much more rational outside of his crypt. On serene Revello drive, in the deep quiet of night - even in Sunnydale, you could feel that silence sometimes - he could see that kiss for a little more of what it was. Buffy liked him, against her will. She liked him enough to talk to him, and drink with him, and she trusted him more and more every day. He had taken care of the Niblet all summer long, and although she never said a proper thank you, he could tell it had softened her towards him. Spike was going out of his way to be - what was that new touchy feely phrase? - emotionally available, to Buffy, in a way the Scoobies just weren't. Too wrapped up in their own garbage, the whingeing whelp and the ex-demon with the sharp honest tongue, the witch steeping herself in magic and her lover beginning to be wary, the librarian itching for a way out. Spike preened for a moment. He liked having one over on the bloody gang, with Buffy and with Dawn. He knew Dawnie missed him, was annoyed by his absence. And, well, he missed her sometimes too. A swarm of resentments hit him over the way that things had shaken out. In an unbiased world, his ass would've been in on that couch tonight, watching movies on the telly with his girls, soulless or not.

But these things take time, reminded the sensible voice of rustling tree leaves and night air. What that kiss had meant was that he had a chance. If he rushed it, if he pushed, if he assumed, that chance would disappear. Not fair really, considering the berks Buffy had dated in the past, but the reality of the thing. She at least knew she wanted him, was attracted to him - he grinned. That was a damn bloody good start.

A muffled scream split apart his self-satisfied reflecting. Not loud enough for a human to hear, but to Spike it was clear as a bell, and from Buffy. He launched himself to the tree by her window and within seconds had slithered into her dark bedroom. In a fighting crouch, Spike speedily scanned the corners of the room - nothing. He turned towards the bed. Buffy was wrapped up in a cocoon of covers, struggling and sweating. Another half-swallowed shriek broke the fog in his head and he jumped towards her. He didn't sense a demon, or magic, or anything that might attack Buffy in her own bed.

"Buffy," he said urgently. "Buffy, love, what is it?"

No response. Spike leaned in closer, and realized Buffy was asleep, caught in a nightmare. Her breathing was heavy, like there wasn't enough oxygen in the room, and despite her Slayer strength she couldn't seem to get free of her blankets. It struck him as he reached in to help her: she was dreaming of her grave. Being trapped underground, without air, in the dark, in a wooden box no wider than her shoulders.

Spike's stomach twisted. "Oh god," he breathed, filled with blood fury for the witch who hadn't even thought to dig her up before that damn spell. Gentle despite the rage in his head, Spike slowly peeled Buffy's duvet, and then her sheets away from her torso. Her hands were claws underneath the coverings, white and trembling ineffectively. He took them in his, crooning a little as he smoothed out her fingers and rubbed some blood back into her palms.

"It's ok, love," he whispered. "You're up here, you're above ground, with someone who loves you. You're safe, Buffy, it's ok."

As he murmured to her, Buffy's breathing began to even out and her strong tiny hands relaxed in Spike's. When it seemed like she was sleeping normally again, Spike let himself slump against her nightstand. A strange feeling was taking hold of him - he couldn't quite figure it out, because it was mixed in with the remnants of fighting readiness and anger for Willow's selfish hocus pocus. Part of it was concern for Buffy, but… oh sweet Jesus. It was guilt. He was feeling guilt, because he had been out there scheming on how to make Buffy fall in love with him when she was in here tormented by something he damn well knew about.

Then Spike shook his head. Wait a second - guilt? You could almost think he'd picked up a soul somewhere, like ever-poncing Peaches. Guilt! He might be chipped and in love, but feeling guilt for wanting to get something his own way! No self-respecting vampire would even entertain the thought. He was the only one there for Buffy right now, and that was good for her. He was good for her, and the Scoobies weren't. End of the flipping story, that's it. This was his chance, and he would get Buffy.

Spike settled into the carpet. He would stay here until sunrise, chasing away the nightmares if they returned, so that Buffy could get some rest. And if she awoke, and saw him, and was grateful, well fancy that.

Buffy woke up slowly, with a sense of peacefulness. She'd had the same horrific dream she'd been having since she came back, but for the first time it had ended before dawn. Replaced with warmth and softness, she'd actually been able to sleep soundly for a few hours. She felt… refreshed. Today would be slow, and horrible, like all the others, and in a little while she'd have to face chirpy Willow and hopeful Dawn, but at least she wasn't starting with already frayed nerves. Buffy snuggled deeper into her bed and turned on her side to check the clock - and instead, saw Spike's sleeping face. Buffy smothered a squawk. So much for the not frayed nerves! What on earth was he doing in her bedroom? Sleeping upright like a little kid trying to stay up too late, no less.

"Spike," she hissed. "SPIKE." He grumbled a little but didn't wake up. There was something sweet and actually kind of pure about his still face, like one of those Renaissance marble statues they'd talked about in Art History. Buffy almost didn't want to wake him, but at the thought of anyone else in the house discovering him in her room, she huffed out his name again. "Spike!"

"'M sleepin, Slayer…" he mumbled without opening his eyes. "'S my bloody crypt so put a sock in it, won't you."

"It's not your crypt you idiot, it's my bedroom!" Buffy freed an arm and whapped Spike's shoulder. His eyelids popped up and he met her stare with confusion. "And I'd like to know why you're using my nightstand as a pillow!"

Spike shook his head a little and looked around, then grinned. "Why not, Slayer? It's better than a sarcophagus, I dunno." At Buffy's look of death, he shrugged and cut the smirk. "I was walking by outside and I heard you scream... I came rushing in here, cause, well, you know," he sheepishly raised his eyes to hers, then dropped them, "and I realized you were having a nightmare."

"And?" Buffy said, acidly.

"And so I talked to you and held your hands until it went away," Spike said, suddenly caustic. "And I stayed just in case another dream came back to trouble your widdle beddy-bye time, but don't bother thanking me, or anything." The vampire stood. "I guess I'll just be pissing off before you even have to say it, eh?"

Buffy opened her mouth to say something - what, she wasn't sure - but then Spike got to the window and started cursing. So a totally intelligent "what?" came out, instead of a decent comeback.

"It's almost daybreak, pet," said Spike. "And I harbor no expectations that you'll tell me it's the nightingale, and not the lark, which makes a risky departure necessary all the same." He grabbed Buffy's duvet off the bed and wrapped it around himself, managing to look evil despite the way the fluffy covering clashed with his black leather. "This'll do the trick, then," he said. As Spike hopped out the window, he looked back over his shoulder. "Don't worry Buffy, I'll bring it back."

Buffy sat, in now much-lessened bed covers, irritated beyond belief. If that snarky vamp got scorch marks on her duvet, she was going to stake a bunch of tiny parts of him before she did the main event. And what on earth did he bring up birds for? Another way he was trying to make her look stupid, probably. Could anyone BE more infuriating? He hadn't even let her get a word in edgewise, cocky asshole.

Buffy stood up and headed to the shower. She wasn't going to get back to sleep after that, and she might as well try to get in a hour or two or peace before the house filled with people chattering at her. Or people giving her extended sidelong glances, actually. All of yesterday, after her song for Sweet, they'd been treating her like a mental patient encased in glass. Don't trouble the poor resurrected girl, she might tell you the truth. Can't have that.

Buffy stepped into the hot shower, and tried to let her bitterness slide down the drain. The warm water all around her reminded her of the good sleep portion of last night, and that helped. But was Spike really responsible for chasing off the dream of airless coffin and clods of dirt? As much as she hated to admit it, he probably was. She couldn't ignore that his presence had coincided with the first time she'd had actual rest since she came back; and how would he know she was having nightmares, anyway? So, fine, she was grateful for that, but he didn't have to be such a jerk about it. Not that she would've told him thank you anyway, but still. Exasperated again, Buffy started lathering her hair.

By the time she turned the water off, Buffy felt marginally ready to face the day. As she toweled off, she thought that at least in Spike's actions towards her there was no hushed fragile glass-ittude. He was just Spike, good at listening sometimes and full of crap other times. For a moment, she wished a little that he could've stayed. Definitely not worth the Willow disapproval, though. Sighing, Buffy pulled a plain grey shirt out of her closet. Whatever. Spike had just better bring back her duvet, clean and smoke-free.

Spike didn't bring her duvet back that night, and it was below Buffy's dignity to go get it from him. She did a blessedly brief patrol (not too much vamp activity right now), put off Giles's requests to have a talk, and managed to suffer through a chick flick with Dawn squealing at every cheesy line. When it was finally time for bed, Buffy got an extra quilt out of the closet and put on her sushi pajamas, and was just fine.

Of course, when her alarm went off the next morning and Buffy burst out of her claustrophobic dreams with a gasp, she wasn't so fine. Her body seemed to feel the horror and the tiredness even more for having one night of sleep. Buffy wondered where Spike had got to. He was in love with her, right? So shouldn't he take any excuse to be in her bedroom? Stupid demon. It wasn't like she could ask him to hang out at night, so why couldn't he just do it? Buffy briefly considered asking Willow to figure out a spell to keep nightmares away, but dumped that idea. It meant telling Willow about the dreams in the first place, plus Tara had asked her not to encourage Willow's current all-powerful-magic-lady persona. Urgh.

When Buffy got downstairs, there was already a Giles-led powwow in motion. Willow and Tara sat with her cloudy faced Watcher, while Xander nervously ate handfuls of cereals direct from the box. At Buffy's entrance, everyone paused and Giles said his traditional, "Ah, Buffy."

Buffy first walked over to Xander, extricating his fist from her cereal box. "Ew," she told him firmly. Setting the box on the counter, she turned back to the group. "Who died, and what do we think did it?" she asked.

"Well, as a matter of fact," Giles said, "several young men died last night behind a bowling alley."

"Bowling ball to the head?" Buffy suggested helpfully. Everyone looked at her blankly. "Ok, ok, supernatural causes, great."

"Precisely. Supernatural causes that have utterly flummoxed Sunnydale's police service," said Giles with a touch of severity.

"That's not hard," grumbled Willow.

"Please," Giles said with a look at the witch. "Human beings have lost their lives, and if that is not sobering enough, I can tell you that upon a little research, this incident is rather alarming. These young men died from all the blood in their veins literally freezing, and then shattering. What was left was incredibly gruesome, as one might expect, making identification difficult, but one thing the coroner could report was that they all died at exactly the same instant."

"Meaning that whoever killed them did it with a instantaneous spell affecting multiple targets," mused Willow.

"It may not have been a spell, Willow," said Giles. "Although I recognize that magic is a strong possibility, it could also have been a demon we have not encountered before. Either way, you are correct that this being wields power that it would be difficult to escape, or fight."

"But fight I will, right?" said Buffy. "That's the point of this little get-together?"

Silence stretched out for several moments as everyone avoided looking at Buffy. Then Giles cleared his throat and said gently, "You are still the Slayer, Buffy. Willow and I will research whatever could have attacked those men, Xander will get Dawn to school, and you could do a little reconnaissance before your first class today. Ask Spike, perhaps, if he's heard anything."

Buffy imagined herself saying, "Sounds great, I will go see Spike, get my bedspread back from him. And maybe ask him to spend the next few nights in my bedroom. Any other instructions?" A giggle at the potential reactions rose and faded almost as fast, leaving Buffy feeling tired and empty. So all she said was, "Ok. Thanks Giles."

Walking to Spike's crypt in the morning sunlight seemed surreal, but then so did her entire life at this point. Buffy tried to will the sun to warm her, but it was all she could do to put one foot in front of the other. When she got to the cemetery, it was almost a relief to get away from the gorgeous day into the cool dark crypt.

"Spike!" she called. "I want my duvet! And some people have died - they didn't win the resurrection lottery so it's a crisis! Spiiiiiike!" No peroxided head appeared. First floor, empty. Buffy headed for the lower level, paused. Spike was definitely the type of man - vampire - to sleep nude, and his bed was down there. Making lots of noise and prepared to look away, Buffy descended into the second part of Spike's weird home. Pretty soon though, it was obvious - no Spike.

Where on earth could the extra-flammable guy have gone during daytime? Buffy drew closer to the bed, and realized her duvet was folded in a very neat square at the end of it. Well, at least she got something out of this trip. She reached out to pick it up and saw the note on top written in elegantly crooked handwriting.

"Buffy,

I'm sorry I didn't bring this back, as I promised. I'll be back in a few days and you can shout at me then. Til I return, be careful. There's a new, bigger bad in town. I don't reckon it'll show it's ugly face to you yet, but when it does, you'll need what I'm trying to get.

Yours."

So, that confirmed Giles's fears. Something new was going bump in the night in Sunnydale, something scary enough for Spike to take immediate action. Buffy felt oddly comforted at the idea of a proactive Spike. Here was one person who didn't rely on Buffy to do the dirty work all the damn time. So instead of crumpling and tossing the note, Buffy folded it carefully. She put it in her pocket and tucked the duvet under her arm. As she left the crypt, the note felt warm against her hip, pulsing through her body despite her better judgement - "yours."


	2. Chapter 2

Spike zoomed through the desert as fast as he could, trying to beat the sun. He hated leaving Buffy and Dawn in Sunnydale but it was now or never. The moment he'd heard the rumblings about a Demon Lord in town, Spike had hopped on his motorcycle and shot off for the oasis. They might not give him what he wanted, but he had to try. He hoped Buffy found his note - two nights travel each way if he was quick enough, and time bargaining. He didn't want her to think he'd abandoned her. And he did want her to have her blanket back, even if the smell of warm Buffy all over it made him ache.

With less than half an hour before sunup, Spike was turning off the engine. He was taking a huge risk - nowhere to hide in this desert once the sun came up. He'd better find the damn place, and get in. Stepping away from the motorcycle ticking as it cooled, Spike centered himself. Solemn and still, he waited and listened for the hum of power. Catching the end of it, he turned and concentrated on an empty swath of sand. Slowly, a shimmering began to expand in front of him. When it was big enough, Spike steeled himself and stepped through. The energy crackled around him for a moment, and then he was out of the brightening desert and under a great blue enamel dome.

He'd forgotten how beautiful it was, in here. Vines curled up and down the pillars, with great deep flowers sleepily bobbing and yawning their fragrance at him. The lights reflected off the blue - a shade he'd only ever seen here - in the closest experience to direct sunlight Spike had enjoyed in a while. There was a pool of water beyond one set of columns, lustrous and still, with more plants draped around its edge. The vampire took a moment to absorb what was around him, inhale the peace, and then turned to the women he knew were waiting for him.

"Vampire," said one.

"You return," said her sister.

"And this time," said a third, cocking her head.

"You are not so dark inside," finished the first.

Spike knelt. "I am here on behalf of a Slayer, my ladies."

All three women laughed, and Spike felt them rummaging in his head, his heart, flicking aside some memories like paper trimmings and picking others up to examine like bugs.

"A half-demon," the middle woman began.

"In love," said the third.

"With a Slayer!" crowed the first.

"True,"

"Real,"

"Love." The first whispered it, then.

"What would you have of us?" the three asked, their features shuddering and changing on their faces, hair growing and shrinking, curling and straightening, dark and then light.

"A Demon Lord has come to Sunnydale," Spike murmured, shaky from their exploration inside him. "She is weak - you saw why. She cannot fight it alone."

"No."

"No."

"No," they breathed.

"I ask for protection. I will carry it to the warrior girl. You know I speak the truth," Spike said, full of fear that they would say no, cast him back into the blazing sun of the desert and leave Buffy alone to fight a being even he might run from.

"Protection,"

"For the Slayer."

"The Slayer who was not allowed to stop fighting."

"Yes," Spike whispered, his eyes tingling.

"What will you give us?" asked the first sister.

"What do I have?" asked Spike.

He felt them begin to pry into his inner self again, but suddenly pull back.

"YOU," breathed the first, eyes widening even as her irises shifted from green to brown.

"are important," said the second.

"The Slayer's consort, if you make the right choices," said the third, ceasing to shift for a moment, her voice sharp and clear. "The Slayer's damnation, if you make the wrong."

Shocked, Spike blurted out "What choices?"

All three smiled, and it was not a nice smile. "Our price must be nothing, but we will tell you no more," the last sister told him. "Choose wisely." The women advanced on him then, inexorable and terrifying.

"This,"

"Will hurt," they told him.

"Carry it well," he heard, and then an incredible pain shot through his arms, his legs, into his chest and out his throat - and suddenly he lay in the dark, next to his motorcycle.

"Bugger," Spike croaked as he sat up. A buzzing sat in all his limbs, as though splinters of light were lodged anywhere they could find purchase inside him. It was not pleasant, and Spike lurched to his feet, using the motorcycle for support. As gingerly as an old man, he straddled the bike and gunned the engine. Roaring off crouched over the handlebars, Spike was not looking forward to having to stop and wait for daylight to come and go. He didn't want to be trapped, thinking about what could be the wrong choices. And more than just to get rid of this awful sensation, he wanted to be back with Buffy.

Groggily, Buffy poured cereal (from a fresh, un-Xandered box) into a bowl, glad Dawn had finally gotten out the door. It took all Buffy's energy to get the teenager off to school. She hadn't had a nightmare-free night since Spike was over, and it was getting to her. Luckily no more gross frozen blood bodies had shown up, and she'd only had to dust three vamps in four nights of patrolling. Even school was… less horrible, although she still didn't get her Romantic Poetry seminar. Poems should be easy, right? But to her, right now, they were just a bunch of too big words strung together in random lines..

Buffy had barely sat down with a spoon when the kitchen door burst open and Spike rushed in under his blanket-thing. As he dropped it, Buffy stood up and unconsciously moved towards him.

"Spike," she heard herself saying. "You look terrible."

He laugh-coughed, and tried to grin. If Buffy was tired, Spike looked exhausted. He was dusty and his face wind and sand abraded, and his skin was tight from not feeding. Buffy felt herself reach out her hands to him, aware that Willow had manifested in the doorway behind her but not entirely caring. "Spike," she asked, "where did you go?"

"Went to see about a bauble for a girl," he said, and put his shaking fingers in Buffy's. She reflexively closed her hands about his, and in an instant they felt fused together. A rushing went through the Slayer, as though she was being shocked by electricity, but somehow pleasant. Spike, however, let out a howl of torture so awful Buffy could feel it in her teeth. Locked together, this continued for timeless seconds, minutes, hours - Buffy didn't know. Until abruptly, Spike collapsed and Buffy's hands were her own again. She could hear Willow yelling in the background, and looked down with a ringing detachment in her ears. Pale violet writing was raised all over the skin of her forearms, her hands, what she could see of her feet. Lifting her arm up, she touched her face and felt the curls of lettering there too - and then it was gone. Buffy's skin was back to its bare, golden norm, and Spike was crumpled at her feet.

"What the hell was that?" Willow was shouting as Buffy went down on her knees to Spike. "What did he do to you? What kind of spell was that, he's a vampire!"

Buffy shook her head. Spike was out cold, and still looked like roadkill. "I don't know," she said quietly to Willow. "But…" she assessed herself for a moment. "I think I feel… great." Buffy smiled and resisted the urge to stroke Spike's stiff blond head. "I think it was something good."

That shut Willow up. She stood there, staring, until Tara joined them. The other witch stopped right as she saw the two on the floor. "Oh, Buffy," she sighed. "Your aura. It's - so much clearer. Stronger outline." Then quieter "What happened to Spike?"

"I don't know," replied Buffy, "but whatever it was, he's a disaster. He needs to stay here, for today, and he needs some blood." She hefted Spike into her arms and his duster flowed around him and down to the floor. Buffy saw Tara smother a smile, but didn't mind. They probably looked like some ridiculous parody of a romance novel cover. Buffy carried the vampire to the couch, calling over her shoulder "would one of you mind going to the butcher's for him?"

"No - I mean, ok, we can go," stammered Willow, and taking Tara by the arm, made a beeline for the doorway. Not for the first time, Buffy saw Tara shoot a disgruntled look towards her oblivious partner. She filed that away under "talk to Willow about at some point" and turned back to Spike as the door closed.

He always looked so much… easier to care for when he was unconscious. Nothing offensive was coming out of his mouth, and Buffy could just appreciate how beautiful the lines of his face were. As she appreciated, she remembered the kiss outside of the Bronze in detail, and began to blush. Urgh, she was totally obsessing over him physically, which would've been fine except he loved her and she didn't feel the same way blah blah blah… To encourage Spike in the slightest would be unfair to him. Buffy huffed a little. She did prefer being around him to anyone else right now - why did it have to be so complicated? To avoid that line of thought, Buffy got up to get her homework. (Although, she still thought there should be some magic homework-doing thing, just for Slayers.) That way she could do something productive, and stick by Spike. She owed him, after all, because whatever had transferred between them felt great. It was like arm floaties when she was 5, buoying her up so that a little dog paddling was enough to keep her afloat. Just this was a magic set of arm floaties.

Tara stayed quiet the whole way to the butcher's. A confrontation with Willow was looming, and she was frustrated with herself for continuing to avoid it. Besides, right now it was more important that she tell Willow how even though Spike's energy gift had strengthened Buffy's aura, it was still frighteningly dark. Waiting for the right moment, she'd let Willow rant about Buffy's "thing" for vampires and how Spike might have just harmed her, but Buffy stupidly trusted him. When Willow told her that she couldn't possibly understand because she hadn't been around for evil Angel, Tara held her tongue. She even held her tongue as Willow retold a version of being kidnapped by Spike that even Tara knew was highly edited - Xander was completely left out, for instance. When they got to the butcher's and Willow was faced with doing something for the person she'd been verbally whaling on the whole walk, Tara gracefully stepped in. She ordered a few bags of pig's blood and paid, which was lucky, since Willow hadn't stopped to get her wallet. It was only on the way home, when Willow started on a different tack that Tara finally lost her temper.

"I mean, how can Buffy not be worried about whatever Spike gave her?" Willow raged. "She was covered in writing I didn't recognize, and then it went away. What kind of spell does that? I've never heard, or read about it, and it could be bad! Buffy just doesn't understand how dangerous magic can be! She's so-"

"No!" Tara finally said angrily, all thoughts of Buffy's aura flying out of her head. She stopped on the sidewalk, turning to face her girlfriend. "You're one to talk! You don't seem to care how dangerous magic can be! You've been abusing it, and toying with it, and building up your ego for weeks now. I asked you not to do magic for a week, and you haven't been able to!"

"What?" Willow asked. "I haven't done any magic since we rescued Dawn from the Bronze!"

"Don't LIE to me, Willow," Tara said, now low and fierce. "You haven't done anything big, but I know you've been doing little tiny spells for convenience." Tara shook her head. "On you, the whiff of a spell is always there."

"Tara-"

"I ignored it because I thought those little magics were like… I don't know. Nicotine patches for a smoker! That it was unfair of me to expect you to quit cold turkey. But now…" Tara started walking again. "You're angry because Spike did something magical that you're unfamiliar with. That he might have helped Buffy more than you could. Which is ridiculous, because you haven't tried to help Buffy."

"Yes, I have!" Willow almost yelled it. "I brought her back from the dead, didn't I? I went through so much to bring her back!"

"From heaven," Tara cut in. "You brought her back from heaven. And when she didn't come back all shiny and full of puns, you left her to deal with it on her own. So tell me, Willow, when you ignore what I want and lie to me, why should I stay to deal with you?"

Willow had begun to cry, but Tara kept moving forward. She sped up a little, a weeping Willow in her wake. When they got to the front door, Willow shot upstairs trying to muffle her sobs. Tara stifled the urge to go after her, to pet her red hair and tell her she was there. To tell her that she could have another week to wean herself off magic. To offer to help research Spike's spell. It was too late for that, and Tara knew that the voice in the back of her head was right. It was time to leave, and with that acceptance Tara felt unexpectedly clear. First things first, though, so she turned to Buffy. She was sitting at the desk, staring at a book but obviously not reading. Spike still lay on the couch, deader than usual.

"Buffy," Tara said softly. "I got some blood. Do you want to come into the kitchen and microwave a mug?"

"Oh, thanks Tara," said Buffy. She trailed the other woman into the kitchen, where Tara passed her a bag of blood and put the rest in the fridge. As Buffy got a mug down for Spike, Tara coughed a little.

"Buffy, I'm going to be moving out," she said. "I don't really want to talk about it, and I'm sorry. But I can't be around W-W-Willow anymore."

Buffy turned, confused. "Tara - why? What happened between you two?"

"Willow has been using magic to make things her own way," replied Tara. "Using magic on me. You should talk to Giles about it. I just wanted to tell you, because -" she stopped. "Because if you need me… need to talk to someone who isn't as close to you… you can call me. Dawn can call me. I'll call her. Both of you." Tara cut herself off and took a deep breath.

"Um… thank you," said Buffy. "I - I always thought - we don't have to stop - being friends. And I know you're really important to Dawn."

Tara gave her a wan but genuine smile, and went upstairs. Buffy stared after her for a moment, and then turned back to the mug and the bag of blood. Mechanically she opened it, fill the mug, placed it in the microwave. Set the timer. Voices began to come from upstairs, raised but indistinct. Buffy could hear crying, and slamming. She knew she should be reacting to this news more, but she didn't feel like Willow's best friend or Dawn's big sister. She just wanted all this heavy stuff to stop. Emotions were too difficult, and she had a big bad on the horizon and a vampire to feed. Right as the timer dinged its doneness, Buffy heard feet pounding down the stairs. She heard the front door slam, then get wrenched open again only to close with another crack of sound.

Wearily, she walked into the front room to find Spike sitting up. He looked tired, but a little amused.

"Trouble in paradise, eh?" he said, catching sight of her. "A little lovers' spat? Haven't seen much of that from those two, now."

"Tara is moving out," Buffy said shortly. At first disposed to be glad it was now just her and the vampire, his readiness to pry irritated her. Breakups weren't funny, or did he need to be reminded of Drusilla?

Spike looked like he was going to say something else, but then saw or smelled the blood. His face roiled and he started to vamp out. His body tensed and Buffy could tell her was struggling to keep his forehead non-bumpy. This lack of control was unusual for Spike; he really must have not eaten for days. Even though Buffy felt a hint of her old revulsion, she stepped closer to him and held out the mug.

"It's ok, Spike," she said. "Your face… I don't mind." She did mind, a little, but was trying to keep in mind that Spike's current state was on behalf of her. Even though she didn't know exactly what he'd done or where he'd been, she was pretty sure it wasn't a kitten poker bender.

Spike grabbed the mug from her and started drinking noisily, face still half-vamped. Buffy wrinkled her nose and turned around. Blood was just so gross! After a minute, the sounds stopped, and she turned back to Spike. Hurt was all over his face for a second, before he wiped it away and replaced it with a sneer.

"Please Slayer, I want some more," he said in a Cockney accent. Buffy rolled her eyes, although inside she felt a little bad for making him self-conscious. She took the mug and heated up the rest of the bag in the kitchen. Spike accepted his second serving without comment, and drank it without vamping or slurping.

"You can just set it down on the table," Buffy told him, when he was done drinking. "We should get you up to the shower, you're filthy."

"Buffy, love," Spike waggled his eyebrows, "I thought you'd never ask."

"Gross, Spike," Buffy knew she'd walked right into that one, but his coating of grime was just too much. "Let's go." She held out her arm and the vampire hauled himself painfully to his feet. Buffy knew enough to not hurt his dignity by carrying him like she had out to the couch, and just put her arm around his back. He settled onto her shoulders and they headed up the stairs.

"You know, I wasn't so gross the other night," Spike said into Buffy's ear. "Outside of the Bronze, after we'd done all our little tra-la-las." Buffy considered dropping him down the stairs, but decided it was too much effort.

"That was a one time thing, Spike. You helped me stop dancing and I was still all singy-Buffy and… that was it," she told him. Even as she was firm with the guy, Buffy was imagining how good that kiss felt. And how hard he'd felt against her - she tried to cut those thoughts off at the pass. She started to blush a little anyways, and when they got to the bathroom door Spike nuzzled her ear.

"I can tell you're thinking about it," he murmured, sexy despite the fatigued undercurrent to his voice. "A bit of a blush in your cheeks… maybe somewhere else." Without taking a beat, Spike delicately licked the curve of Buffy's ear. Heat waves broke straight down her body, and God help her but Buffy wanted to get into the shower with him. She thought about the feel of his ridged penis through his pants and imagined him nude, soapy and slick. His hands all over her.

Buffy's blush intensified and she quickly propped Spike up against the bathroom doorframe. Keeping her face away from him, she turned on the shower water. "Uh, I'll get you a towel," she said, and slipped past him into the hallway. She took some time choosing a towel from the linens closet, and when Buffy turned back to Spike her blush was mostly under control. "Here," she said, and thrust the towel out at him. He took it, grinning.

"You sure you don't want to join me, pet?" he said. As he stepped towards her, his legs buckled a little and he caught himself on the doorframe.

"Even if that WASN'T the last thing on my mind, I don't think you could handle me right now," Buffy said, crossing her arms.

"Fair enough," Spike responded. He got himself into the bathroom and began to close the door, then looked at her again. "Although, if I was feeling myself, I would do plenty more than just handle you." He winked one gorgeous blue eye and shut the door, effectively getting the last word.

Buffy stood in the hallway, definitely annoyed but even more aroused. A stray thought came to her mind: was this how Anya felt when she was around Xander? Then it would make sense that she always wanted to have sex, although how anyone could feel wet for Xander was beyond - Buffy decided to end that line of internal dialogue. Some things did not need analysis. Although when getting in a shower with Spike had become more palatable than imagining sexy Xander, Buffy didn't know.


	3. Chapter 3

"A Demon Lord has come to Sunnydale," Spike stated flatly, looking around the table at everyone. "It's not-"

"That's it?" interrupted Xander. "Some kind of extra fancy demon royalty? What's the big deal with that? We can fight one demon, no problem!"

"Yeah, Spike, big deal," shot Willow. "What we SHOULD be talking about is that spell you put on Buffy!"

"In due time, Red," Spike responded as Anya scoffed at her fiance (knew he liked that girl), "because if certain people would keep their bleedin' traps shut, I could explain that a Demon Lord is not as simple as the title makes it sound. It's a very specific term. 'S not just a demon who's a little smarter and stronger and in charge of the rest of its kind. It's a being - usually starts out as a human - who has developed his or her capacity for magic over decades, maybe even a century or more."

"You mean they've prolonged their life spans with magic?" Willow, suddenly distracted from Spike's spell.

"Among other, more terrifying things, yes," Spike said. He noticed Giles looking at Willow with concern and grinned to himself. Witch gettin' too big for her britches, it seemed. No wonder the luscious Tara had had enough. Although, he wished she hadn't a little. He liked that one, treat for the eyes and the ears she was. And not unpleasant to him like the rest of -

"Spike." Witch called him back to where he was.

"Sorry, Red," he said, sending her a saucy smile. "Still recoverin' and all that." Willow rolled her eyes. "Anyway, point is, the title Demon Lord is because eventually, this thing - person - being - whatever - acquires control over all species of demon. On varying levels, but it grows over time. And this should go without sayin', but they're not mobilizing an army of demons to save damsels in distress and kittens up trees."

"Oh, thanks, Spike," Xander said, sarcasm evident. "I was hoping this Lord guy would take over the world, making it safer for everyone but you."

Ignoring the whelp, Spike went on. "Demons are terrified of these Lords, because even the thickest of 'em don't want to be stripped of free will and used as cannon fodder or what have you. And the thing is, all the Demon Lords I've heard of have a sense of humor. Mischief, I guess. They're hard to get at, because they're not about some cliched world takeover. They're about having a good time, and their idea of a good time isn't something even I can always get into."

"Well, hey, Spike, good to know that there's some kind of depravity out there that you won't sink to," quipped Xander.

"Xander, please," Giles said quietly. He had been silent until now, and Spike found himself strangely pleased that the Watcher had sort of defended him. Their mutual lack of patience with Xander was rewarding, at times.

"Spike, I don't mean to doubt your knowledge, but I find it strange that the Council has never heard of anything like a Demon Lord." Giles pushed his glasses up his nose. "It sounds, from what you say, like a highly visible threat that would have come to the attention of Slayers and their Watchers."

"Sounds like you're making it up," Willow smiled, nastier than Spike had seen her. "Making it up so you can put a spell on Buffy, right? As if harassing her all the time wasn't enough, you -"

"Willow!" Buffy finally showed some sign of animation. "I feel fine. Can we at least wait for Spike to explain?" Willow pouted and crossed her arms, but stayed quiet.

"Look, Rupes," said Spike, his momentary liking for the librarian dissipated and Red on his last nerve. "Demon Lords are smart. Smarter than vampires, smarter than humans. They're in it for themselves. Why would they try to draw attention? They never target Slayers, or even go near a Slayer's territory. Usually." Spike snuck a look at Buffy. This concerned him more than anything, a Demon Lord in the town of a Slayer who had become legendary. She looked - blank. Unconcerned. And that was scary to him, too.

"But I find it hard to believe that NO hint of the existence of such a powerful being has ever reached the Watcher Council's ears," persisted Giles.

"Really?" spat Spike. "Because I don't. How many Watchers get killed by demons? Not a lot, but it's a hazard of the profession, right? Not somethin' you lot look into all that closely. Watcher hears a bit about a Demon Lord, Demon Lord makes it their bloody priority to get rid of that Watcher. And when it's on a Demon Lord's list of things to do, it gets done now don't it? With any one of the horde at their beck and call. And anytime they pull something - like the rebellions in Prague in the 1400s - it's hard to see it for their work."

"In that case, how do you know about them, then, Spike?" asked Giles witheringly.

"Because I'm a demon, that's why," Spike explained as though to a child. "Demon Lords are a big stinkin' hazard in our world. Dunno who first figured it and shared the knowledge, but most demons hear those rumors and beat it the hell out of town. Leaving 'em to spread the word. We don't wanna be mind controlled and it's not like the buggers usually have a cause we can get behind. Vampires especially steer clear. We like to go our own way."

"If everyone could stop baiting each other for just a moment, I want to say that Spike isn't making it up. I've had quite the history with at least one Demon Lord," Anya put in. "From my demon days - vengeance demons and Lords actually get along pretty well, we're both into chaos and enjoy, you know, the little things, like disembowelments and-"

"An," said Xander. "Um, gross now."

"Sorry, sorry, so sensitive, aww" Anya said, and petted Xander's face. "Anyway, like I said, Demon Lords, real things, like chaos, one of the few things demons'll run from."

"Then why haven't YOU left town, Spike?" asked Buffy, sudden and direct. The vampire squirmed a little. He didn't mind being the good guy for Buffy, but in front of the others it was galling.

"Yeah, and can we talk about that spell now?" put in Willow. Spike decided he preferred the latter question. Witchy wasn't going to shut up about anytime soon, besides.

"It was protection," Spike told them. "I don't know exactly what it does, but it magnifies the bearer's existing strengths and protects against the supernatural abilities of enemies. It may even manifest as physical protection sometimes, hard to tell. Depends on the threat, and the champion."

"So Buffy is… the champion?" asked Xander.

"Well, yes," said Spike. "I don't know why a Demon Lord is here, but Buffy is legendary already. She's the Slayer who wins and who won't quit. Appeals to some who like a challenge," here, the vampire had the grace to look abashed, "and maybe this Lord was bored. Endless supply of demons on the Hellmouth, too. Any way you slice it, it's a threat to Buffy, Sunnydale, the Hellmouth, maybe larger, I don't know."

"How come you didn't get this for Buffy sooner?" asked Anya. "It sounds great, and since you're obsessed with her and all-"

"It's a bit hard to get, darlin'," Spike said hastily. "Can't ask for it for yourself, someone's got to ask it for you. Got to be for a really good reason, specific and all that, and there's payment to be made."

"Glory wasn't a really good reason?" this came from Willow, angry again.

"She was, just..." whispered Spike. He'd tormented himself over and over for not at least trying to get her protection, after she - jumped. But… "It wouldn't have blocked the powers of a god," he told them. "It comes from the Powers That Be, and they won't help out again one of their own. Start a divine war and all that."

"You went to the Three," breathed Giles. "How did you get in? And my god, Spike, how did you pay them?"

Spike REALLY did not want to explain that second one. Any whisper of the idea of him being Buffy's consort and they'd all send him flying out the door arse-first, not to mention the choices part. If anyone even believed that the sisters had actually said that, they'd still stake Spike just in case he made the wrong choices.

"Spike?" asked Buffy. "Was it… make with the big time payment?"

"I, er, had been there before," said Spike, trying to stall with the first answer. "When Dru was sick, before we even came to Sunnydale, we went to the Three. Dru could find them, you see, maybe cause she was mental, and we thought they could heal her. A protection spell to make her right again. And I guess they could've, but we didn't have anything they wanted in payment for helping a creature of the dark and all…" Bugger, he was back to the payment part. Searching quickly, he said, "They're not all on the side of fluffy bunnies, you know."

"I should hope not! Then we'd all be dead," said Anya, shuddering. "Can you imagine, invincible bunnies?!"

"Sure, An," said Xander amiably, "that'd be terrifying all right."

Spike was hoping the conversation would continue elsewhere, but then Giles the British Bugger had to bring it all back around.

"Yes, I've read that they are quite indiscriminate with their aid," he said, polishing his glasses. "Although the price is often higher for creatures of the dark… but some theories postulate that is a result of evil beings having less they care about, thus less to sacrifice."

"Sacrifice?" asked Willow. "What did YOU sacrifice, Spike?" The redhead was getting belligerent again.

Unable to come up with something that would gain Buffy's gratitude while not seeming suspicious - it had to be noble but also not obviously weakening, no idea - Spike decided to just tell a bit of the truth. "I didn't pay anything," he told them. "They said… they said their price must be nothing."

"Must be?" asked Giles with an incredulous look. "Why on earth must? I have never heard of the Three offering their services freely."

"I don't know," said Spike. "I suppose they may have more of a bent towards the light than you think. They called Buffy 'the Slayer who was not allowed to stop fighting'."

"Allow-" Willow began, but then cut herself off. She looked ashamed, and sad.

Everyone looked at Willow for a moment, and then Xander said in a small voice, "Maybe these Three are on the good side… or maybe this Demon Lord is a threat to them, too." For once, the whelp was using his brain, and Spike nodded at him. Everyone was quiet, thinking on that. The silence stretched across the table, more and more somber until a door slam broke into the space.

"GEEZ, who died?" asked Dawn, throwing down her bag and standing hands on her hips. "Wait, oh god, did someone we know die? Where's Tara?" All flippancy draining out of her tone, the teenager sat in the empty chair. Spike felt for the girl, wanting to be a part of things and afraid as all-getout after losing her mum and her sis in the same few months, but he didn't want to sit through the Dawn-splanation.

"This lot can tell you," replied Spike. Then, nicely, "Nobody's died yet." He pushed back his chair and went into the living room to get his leather coat. From it he yelled "I'm off," and headed for the door. It had been nice to take a shower and a nap on Buffy's couch, but it was just dark and he wanted his pad. He wanted some whiskey, and a bigger nap, and he didn't want the Scoobies to know how wiped he still was.

Buffy appeared at the door as Spike opened it. He looked at her, hoping to see some tenderness, gratitude, even fear - but she just looked blank. All the Buffy personality he'd seen starting to creep out over the last few days was gone, in the face of a threat that demanded the warrior, not the girl.

"I'll let you know if I hear anything else," he said to her, just wanting to elicit some kind of response. Her presence at the door was something, but not if she was zombie Buffy.

"Thanks, Spike," she said. Her face did change a little, then, and she added, "for everything. The protection, I mean. Thanks."

"Not a problem," Spike said, heading out the door. He wasn't in the mood to see this Buffy right now, and he really wanted that bloody drink.

"Spike," Buffy called out when he was almost across the lawn. The vampire looked back at her, standing in the lighted doorway, always startlingly tiny. "Control over demons - could that include you?"

Spike wasn't sure if he heard concern or curiosity, vulnerability or what, but there was only one response.

"It could, pet, but it won't," he called back, and left.


	4. Chapter 4

Giles had finally pinned Buffy down for a talk - and just in time, since his flight was in two days. It wasn't like Giles wanted to have the conversation anymore than Buffy did, but he had to go. His Slayer needed to be jerked back into reality and he needed to draw on the strength of the Council regarding this Demon Lord. Not to mention that while he was there, Giles could continue to lobby for extending a stipend to Buffy. He wanted her to learn financial responsibility, but realistically there wasn't much in the bank to learn it with. Then there was the matter of Willow… and her very unsettling relationship with magical power, which Giles desperately wanted to discuss with the Devon Coven. All in all, England was the place to be right now. He just hoped Buffy could understand that.

Buffy listened gravely as he laid out these reasons for his departure - leaving out the stipend, he didn't want to get her hopes up - and then was quiet, her back to the brick wall of the training room.

"I am sorry to leave you," Giles said again, to break the silence. He'd grown to dread Buffy's flatness. It was all the worse for her occasional moments of energy, because you never knew now when this Buffy would show up to stonewall you.

"So… don't," Buffy said. Her words were slow, full of effort. "Can't you… do all the telling and consulting from here?"

"No, Buffy," Giles said, trying to be patient. "Tele-communications are not immune to magical spying, and I have no wish to alert the Demon Lord that this Watcher is aware of his or her presence. My return to England is innocuous enough - I was considering it before Spike's revelation in any case."

"You were-?" Buffy broke in.

"And," continued Giles, "I am very concerned about Willow, as should you be, and I want to put in a formal request to the Coven. That must be done in person."

"You were thinking of leaving before?" Buffy persisted. Giles felt a familiar twinge of frustration that Buffy was not engaging with him on Willow's behavior.

"Yes, I was. I have my own life in London, and I can't be around to fix everything forever. Better now than later, when you've come to depend on my intervention - as with Dawn, for example!"

"I already depend on you…"

"I know, my girl, and I love you very much. But I've made up my mind."

"Of course you have," Buffy said, showing a spark that Giles now regretted wishing for. "You always do! You make up your mind about what is best for me before even asking - or you just don't care to think about it. Your life in London and your Council of stodgy old men is more important?!"

"That is not fair," Giles responded, hurt. "I do ask you questions, but you've barely been communicating with anyone the past week. If you want us to know what you want, you have to say something about it. That's a basic fact of maturity, Buffy, and I am leaving so you can learn it, among other things."

Buffy deflated, as fast as she'd gone on the offensive. "Leaving without letting me have a real say in it… seems like a pattern with the men in my life. My dad, Angel, Riley, now you. I don't know why I'm surprised."

Giles was startled. He'd never thought about that progression in Buffy's life, and now it seemed painfully obvious. He in no way wished to be on THAT list of males.

"I understand, Buffy" he tried. "But I will come back, and unlike those... fellows, I will not cut off contact with you. You will hear from me, and I won't be gone forever." Buffy shrugged her shoulders. "And Buffy - as far as men - Xander isn't going to leave any time soon… and if we're being honest-" Giles couldn't believe he was going to say it, but, "neither is Spike."

"Great," said Buffy. "A klutz obsessed with his ex-demon fiancee and a vampire with highly questionable morals."

"That is unkind," chided Giles. "Xander loves you very much, and Anya is not an unwelcome source of knowledge to the group." The Watcher paused, decided he had to be fair, despite again being a little internally incredulous at himself. "While I don't recommend trusting Spike, his morals seem somewhat consistent when it comes to keeping his promises to you. Which includes aiding you. It is truly spectacular that he went to The Three on your behalf."

"Really?" Buffy seemed interested again.

"Again, Buffy, I don't condone letting Spike too close, but I must admit that my opinion of Spike has improved. And yes, his visit to The Three is in no small part responsible. He could have lost a great deal - they have been known to take anything from a limb to sanity to memories in payment - and it seems as though he never hesitated. He was proactive on your behalf, and I suggest that you appreciate that."

"I do," said Buffy, a little too warmly for Giles's comfort.

"Ah - but," he added hastily, "Spike is still a vampire, and his love for you is still very unsettling. You must always been sure to never encourage those feelings. And keep in mind that without the chip, he could return to being quite a threat. Allow him to help you, but keep him at arms length, Buffy."

"Yeah, I know," Buffy sighed.

"I have to go," Giles said, checking his watch after a moment. "There are some things I still must do before I leave."

"Of course," said Buffy. "Thanks for deciding that telling me you were leaving was one of them. Glad I rate so high on that list."

Her bitterness was back, and Giles decided he could do no more for now. He stood up, kissed his Slayer on the forehead, and left.

Spike was dozing when Buffy came into his crypt. It had been almost a week since he'd come back from the desert, and he was still embarrassingly weak. He was sleeping a lot, and apart from the occasional foray out for cigarettes and blood, he was mostly keeping to himself. Two nights back he'd gone on an information run, but all he'd gleaned was that this Demon Lord was quiet and slow. Not too many seemed to even know a Lord was in town, and nobody had a clue as to why. From the comfort of his crypt, Spike had looked into possible oncoming potential for Apocalypse - prophecies, planets aligning, what have you - and saw none in Sunnydale's near future. Luckily, on that information run, Spike had managed to borrow some books on demon history from one of the scholarly, rather pleasant Cha'toth demons before they left town. Can't keep records if you risk sticking around, he guessed.

While some demon history was fascinating, looking for possible Demon Lord similarities was painstaking business. Spike had ensconced himself in his chair with a nice generous glass of bourbon, and between comfort and tedious reading the vampire dropped right off. Which was how Buffy came to find him, head back and leather-bound book flopped open in his hand.

"You look positively grandfatherly, Spike, " Buffy said by way of greeting. Spike jerked awake, sending the book to the floor. "It's kind of weird."

"Well, I am wise and dignified," Spike forced himself to stand up and prowl over to the Slayer. "And old… but certainly not infirm - although, if you'd care to check…?"

"Come on, Spike, do you have to go there right away?" Buffy complained.

"You started it," he retorted.

"Ok, ok," Buffy said, and sort of looked away. She started wandering around his crypt, and as always Spike wasn't sure what she was after. He hoped she wasn't going to ask him to go patrol, since he didn't want to fall on his face and make an idiot out of himself.

"Er…" he began, and then cut himself off. Buffy'd get around to it eventually without his help.

"Can I just… hang out here for a little while?" she finally asked, turning back towards him.

"Anytime, pet," Spike answered, relieved and pleased. He hadn't seen Buffy for a week, wanted to let her get her bearings. Plus he wanted her to come after him, in any case; it was her turn to acknowledge she wanted to be around him.

As if his thoughts pulled it out of her, Buffy said reluctantly, "I finished a patrol and I didn't want to go home. I hadn't seen you since… you told us about the Demon Lord and…"

Spike waited for her to finish for a moment, but realized she wasn't going to make the effort.

"Well, I don't have a lot more that I've learned about our new friend," Spike ventured. Buffy made no response and sat down in the chair he'd just vacated.

"This is comfy." Buffy seemed surprised. "Can I have a sip of this, what is it?"

"Euh, bourbon, love," said Spike. "Take a sip but don't get drunk on me again. I don't think I'm ready for it."

"Sheesh, Spike, that was your fault anyway," Buffy said, taking a swallow of liquor and making a face. "You were my… encourager? What's that word?"

"Enabler, I think you mean," Spike sat at Buffy's feet, and rested his head on the recliner, deliciously close to her knee.

"That," confirmed Buffy. "You enabled me last time. So don't complain!"

"I wasn't complaining, my dove. Merely being practical about my limitations at the moment. Carrying you home is a little out of the question for me yet."

"What do you mean? Not that… I want you to, or - yuck. Whatever."

"I'm not quite back in tippy top condition," Spike said, smirking a little to himself. He loved when she gave away little kernels like that.

"Really, Spike?" Buffy asked, and the vampire didn't think he was imagining the note of concern in her voice. "It's been a whole week. Are you… getting better at all?"

"Yes, yes, pet, I'm not metaphysically poisoned or any such nonsense. It just takes it out of you, being the delivery boy for such as the Three."

"Giles-" Buffy paused, and swallowed. "Giles told me that it was a really big deal, you going to see them. He said the payment could've been big, even your sanity."

"Ah - yep, The Three are… well they are in a position to charge as they like." Spike was trying to tread carefully. He wanted her grateful, of course he did, but he also didn't want to make her uncomfortable right now. Something was bothering her, and the sooner he put her at ease the sooner she'd let herself share it.

"I…" Buffy seemed almost shy, a strange, strange thing for Spike to witness. "I said thank you. And I am. I mean, I am thankful. But - um - I think if I had to choose, I'd want you with your mind - I mean, evil and terrible as it is - uh, your mind intact. Instead of this fancy protection thing. I don't even know that it's working."

A warmth went through Spike. He wanted to wrap his arms around Buffy for that - even Dru hadn't seemed to much care whether or not his head was right. Buffy… wanted him as himself. Like he wanted her. Resisting the urge to let his head slide onto her knee, the vampire said lightly "I was hoping more they'd go for the limb, meself. But turns out we're all ducky and they didn't want a blessed thing. And it'll work - you can bet on that. Just hasn't had a reason yet."

Buffy was silent. They sat there, comfortable companions. Whatever Buffy was worried about was still fermenting inside her, but Spike let himself enjoy the stillness between them. It wasn't always tension and fights for him and his girl. Although sometimes, his philosophical side wondered if the history of verbal and physical violence between them was actually what made this possible, now.

Eerily mirroring his thoughts again, Buffy said eventually, "You've been around for a long time, now, Spike. I think… I wouldn't want you to go."

He felt the tension in her going up at that last phrase, so Spike reassured. "I've got no plans to go anywhere, pet. 'Specially not when a big bad is looming."

"You'll tell me, right?" Buffy said, still tense. "If you decide to… what's your phrase, bugger off, for good?"

"Yes, pet, of course. You could hardly avoid me telling you. But I'm not, so I won't," the vampire reasoned. "I'm not like the strong and silent Peaches." The moment it was out of his mouth, Spike winced. Probably the wrong thing to say, bugger it.

"No, you're not," Buffy said, a little upset. Spike figured he'd better backpedal and cast about for what to say, but suddenly Buffy came out with it. "Giles left."

"What?" Spike asked, completely unprepared. "Watcher left again? Thought he'd never let you out of his sight… after -"

"Yeah." Buffy's words caught on the hurt in her throat. "He went back to England yesterday." Spike waited. There was more, he knew it. "He said he needed the Council's brainpower or whatever to deal with the Demon Lord. And he wanted to see some convent of witches or something, about Willow. Because she's not herself anymore either, all she wants is magic and Tara back. He said he couldn't do all that from Sunnydale…" She trailed off.

"I'm sorry, Buffy," Spike offered.

"It's not up to you to be sorry," Buffy said, voice rising. "I told him - I told him all the men I care about leave me behind without discussing it with me. My dad, Angel, stupid Riley, now Giles. And I - I - he didn't even try to deny it." She had started to cry, and Spike's heart ached for her. Bloody bastards, not knowing what they had in her - what idiots. Risking it, Spike lifted his head and snuck his hands up to put them over hers. She let him, but with her hands totally still.

"He didn't deny it," Buffy repeated, "but he told me… he told me that you and Xander weren't going anywhere. That you were… consistent… and helpful…"

Spike was surprised to hear old Rupert actually giving him some credit. The librarian must have been pretty troubled by Buffy's list of disappearing men to let THAT admission out. He was sure it was coupled with warnings about him, but still. Not bad on the Watcher.

"Buffy." Spike let his head fall back onto the recliner and ran his thumbs over the backs of her hands. "I'm not going anywhere. If you don't know by now that I'm going to be there whenever you need me, maybe that California blonde is going to your head."

Buffy gave a soupy laugh and withdrew one of her hands to wipe her eyes. "I hate blonde jokes," she said without annoyance.

"Ah, love, don't hate them. They're just proof of your superiority, when someone tries to tell you you're a ditz. Besides, I'm a blond by choice, what does that say?"

"It says you have terrible fashion sense," Buffy said, but there was no sting in her words. They sat there, one of Buffy's hands still holding onto Spike's. Then, impossibly, Spike felt a tentative touch on his head and went still inside. Was he hallucinating - tenderness, affection? But undeniably, he felt slender fingers working themselves into his hair, stroking his head.

"It's softer than I thought," said Buffy, dreamily.

Spike could make no response. He was adrift, could barely think. The time stretched out, Buffy's hand gentle and warm on his head and Spike slowly letting himself believe it. A series of images with Buffy came to him as he began to doze again: quiet and peaceful at times, playful and bright other times, and always, Spike fighting alongside her, with her, for her.

One of Buffy's motives in going to visit Spike had been to fall asleep with him, so when she woke up curled up in his recliner she wasn't too disoriented. As she'd hoped, no nightmares. She let herself wake up slowly, the knowledge of the blanket over her coming on first, then the feeling of a crick in her neck, then the realization that Spike was asleep in her lap. THAT was unexpected, and Buffy had to keep herself from jerking and pushing him off. She didn't really want to push him off, but the idea of being close to Spike had been a no-no for so long the reflexes were still there. Probably they were right, she knew - it was still a no-no to be like this with Spike. But she couldn't find revulsion in her anywhere, this morning. He had been such a good listener, sincere and calming. Again, Buffy felt more rested than in a while. And with his arm splayed out across her lap, head resting in the curve of his elbow, he just looked like a man. A handsome, trustworthy man with no history of blood or rape or murder.

Buffy couldn't help it - she shuddered, a little, both from the memories of the old Spike and from her desire for them to go away. At the movement, the object of her thoughts stirred a little, murmuring gibberish, and snuggled deeper into her lap. Unthinking, Buffy put out her hand to pet his head, and stopped herself. What WAS that? She had been playing with his hair last night, when they hadn't felt the need to keep talking. It was - nice, she admitted to herself, but that intimacy with Spike was definitely NOT on the approved list of ways to discourage Spike from being in love with her. It was probably on another list full of frowny faces and admonishments about keeping her distance from sexy vampires, blah blah blah. Buffy should probably be going anyway, it was a Saturday morning and Dawn would be sad if she wasn't there for breakfast… not to mention Willow would ask prying questions that ended in a cross-examination about whether or not Buffy had felt any effects from Spike's protection spell. Or tears about Tara, that was always a possibility too.

Buffy began trying to get up without waking Spike. A silly idea, but she did want the guy to recover his strength. She was getting antsy about this Demon Lord and wanted Spike back in action. Plus, she didn't know what she would say to him. "Hey Spike, we were just acting as if we'd been together for years, but I'm gonna go back to my real life and you should probably not expect that ever again?" Probably not. Mean, and didn't want to be mean. And maybe not true, because even if she didn't want to admit it, that was the best night she'd had since before she died.

Of course, Spike woke up mid-extrication process. He gave Buffy a boyish smile still full of sleep and she felt a little twist in her midsection. Hastily, she got herself out of the chair and backed away from it til she stepped on a book. Grateful for the prop, she bent down to get it and when she straightened Spike was standing in front of her.

"Off so soon?" he drawled.

"Uh, yeah. Gotta get home to Dawn, breakfast and stuff."

"Ah, the Niblet. Right. Not like you and I could go to a coffeehouse or Denny's for nosh anyways."

"Yeah, no, flamey flamey." Buffy was distracted by a brief image of having civilized biscotti and cappuccinos with Spike. She smiled a little, and Spike smiled foolishly back.

This was just too weird. Buffy seized on the book in her hand, and thrust it out towards Spike, breaking the moment. "What is this? Not exactly Passions, is it?" A thought occurred to her and she looked down, horrified. "Oh god, is it Passions? One of those TV-turned book novels?"

Spike laughed. "No, no, I don't know that novels like that exist for Passions. Would still read it if it did and no lip from you, please." He took the book from Buffy as she made a face. "This is demon history, borrowed it off a professor-type demon. Reading for habits of Demon Lords. Anything to try to figure out why ours is here, what his or her plan is."

"Oh…" Buffy felt like the very words "Demon Lord" threw an iron cape of responsibility around her shoulders. "I guess I've been trying not to think about that. Which is bad. Bad Buffy." She shrugged. "There's just so much other stuff to think about. Like Dawn. And Willow, although I don't really understand what's up with her. And money. Oh, god, money." Buffy felt like she was going to cry. "Spike, I have to go."

She made for the door of the crypt, but Spike caught her hand. Buffy turned back, right into Spike's lips, as he put his other hand on the small of her back and pulled her into him. Buffy's inner Giles was horrified, but the rest of her just - gave in, happily. Spike's mouth was impossibly warm and soft, and his body felt lean and perfect against hers. He didn't run his hands all over her like the other men she'd kissed, and there was something even sexier about the firm, decisive presence of his hand on her back. And his mouth - his mouth was insistent, amazing. Every time Buffy started to come back to herself, Spike changed the angle of the kiss, or nipped at her bottom lip, or flicked his tongue just a little over hers. She moaned, and then Spike's hands did move, one sliding to cup her ass and the other tangling itself in her hair. Little shocks of limb-weakening arousal began pulsing between her legs, into her stomach, lust so intense it could have been nausea. And then - Spike stopped. His erection was obvious again - another burst of heat went through Buffy - and he was grinning.

"Something to take your mind off it all," Spike said, looking very pleased with himself.

Buffy wanted to say - anything, really, but he was right. She couldn't think, she wanted to keep kissing him but wasn't about to let him win, so she settled for stumbling out into the sunshine. Her subconscious took over and propelled her towards home, while two thoughts chased each other like kittens in her head. Why did Spike stop, and why did she want to keep going?


	5. Chapter 5

Willow was pretty proud of herself. She'd gotten herself and Buffy out of the house for a much-needed girl date, despite having absolutely no help from Buffy. Willow had clenched her teeth and asked Spike to watch Dawn - it was better than asking Tara, that was for sure - and cajoled Buffy into dressing up a little. Really, if Buffy didn't stop wearing so much grey and black Willow was going to scream! And now they were sitting at the Bronze, full of pizza and maybe gearing up for ice cream, and Willow felt it was going well. Buffy had talked a little about her money worries, and how she felt about Giles leaving, and how she was glad to have gotten back into college but that she really hated Romantic Poetry. Willow had managed to only mention Tara twice - ok, maybe three times - and had stuck to her inner rule of not mentioning magic or Spike's stupid protection spell, since that seemed to annoy Buffy.

But now, drink in hand at the bar, Willow couldn't resist anymore. She was so excited to tell Buffy about Yllaine, and maybe it would get back to Tara and maybe… Willow turned to Buffy.

"So, Buffy, Giles called me," she began.

"Really?" Buffy's face fell. "He hasn't called me at all since he left, even though he promised to."

"Uh, I think it was from a payphone or something. He sounded like he was in transit somewhere and really busy. And it was a short phonecall because he just had one important thing to tell me!"

"What was that?" Buffy asked, and even though Willow sensed that the question was obligatory it was enough invitation.

"Ok, well, he told me that he'd talked to the Devon witches and that they recommended someone who could be a better teacher for me than he could. He said this lady would… um, not get pissed about some of the stuff I've done, and help me, um, ...not have to use magic all the time." That was Willow's least favorite part. Giles had actually called her a specialist in advanced magic and "magical rehabilitation" because apparently even powerful people got overwhelmed by magic's potential blah blah blah…

"That sounds great, Will," said Buffy. "Do you have to leave Sunnydale, though?"

Willow heard the defeat in Buffy's voice with that question, and was happy to be able to make it go away. "No, no, she's here! Her name is Yllaine and I met her yesterday, and she's amazing. She knows all these white magic spells and has so many books… I wish I'd met her before! She's so beautiful, and really kind. She's not mad at me at all, and she makes it sound so easy to not do magic all the time."

"How's that?" asked Buffy.

"Well she can sense the residue left behind by a spell, and she explained that a lot of it actually makes things around you… stickier. Like your spells aren't as precise or sometimes not as strong when you've done lots of little things. Which makes so much sense! So not only is there a good reason not to use magic for convenience, but she could tell if I had anyway and I want her to like me. I think you'd like her too, Buffy."

"Yeah," Buffy nodded her head a little. "Maybe you can bring her to dinner in a few weeks, or something."

"That sounds great, but she's all… strict student-teacher relationshippy right now. I'm hoping she'll relax after she sees how committed I am, though."

"I'm sure she will… I'm happy for you," said Buffy.

Willow had almost finished her drink, and as she gestured to the bartender for another she decided to just go for it. "Buffy… are you happy? I mean, happier? I can't tell… I can't even tell if you blame me or not. For -" Willow took a deep breath. This was the sort of thing Yllaine would do, she told herself. Acknowledge verbally her mistakes. If Yllaine ever made any, which Willow kind of doubted. But. "For pulling you out of heaven," Willow finished.

"Oh, Will…" Buffy paused for a long time, and Willow felt a kind of sick ball start to form in her stomach. "Of course I don't blame you. I know being here is better for Dawn but-"

"Dawnie told me the first thing you said when you came back was "is this hell?" interrupted Willow.

"Um - I don't remember. It might have been. It's not that you were wrong -" Buffy hesitated. "It's just hard for me. I want to be here with Dawn, and you, and when Giles was here I felt…"

"It's hard but it's getting better, right?" Willow prompted.

"Yeeeah, I guess." Buffy drained the rest of her drink. "Anyway, I don't remember heaven as much as I used to."

"Well, Buffy, you can always rely on me," said Willow, proud of her friend for moving forward. "I will always try to help." The witch took what she deemed an adequate pause. "So anything happen with that protection thingy of Spike's?"

Buffy ordered another drink and shook her head. "Not that I can tell. It hasn't hurt me, if that's what you -"

"No, no," Willow lied. "Just curious!"

"I dunno, I guess I haven't gotten in trouble fighting recently. And maybe it's a one shot deal, or something."

"Or it could just not be working! Maybe Spike broke it when he was bringing it back."

"It did seem to hurt him a lot, when it transferred to me…" Buffy sounded reluctant, so Willow decided it was time to change subjects.

"Whatever, I'm sure you'll find out." Willow patted Buffy on the back. "BUT while we're on the subject of spells, can I tell you about this one Yllaine is going to let me try?!"

Spike was assiduous in ignoring the popcorn that was being aimed at his head in regular intervals. They were watching a bloomin' Bogart flick, didn't teenage girls like the moody secret-filled look anymore? Apparently not, because finally Dawn flung a whole handful at Spike and just started talking over the movie.

"Ok, Spike, come on! Why don't you come over anymore? You watched me almost every night for a whole summer - don't you miss me? I miss you! Buffy is so meh all the time and nobody tells me anything. And now you just want to sit quietly!"

"I don't come round that often for a lot of reasons, pet," said Spike, finding a pool of patience inside himself. "One, nobody has asked me."

"I'm asking you!"

"TWO, there's not the need anymore, so much. Willow is home to keep an eye on you and vamp activity is down."

"But it's down because there's a bogeyman here! You should be extra watchy right now," complained the teenager.

"When Buffy asks for me, I'll be here," said Spike. "You, too, if you want to know. I just don't want to come round when you and Buffy might need some time together."

"When Buffy spends time with me it's like hanging out with a bowl of pudding," said Dawn. "Actually, worse, pudding is tasty and edible. Buffy is just… there like a gelatinous puddle. She hardly talks to me. I told her I had a crush on this guy Zac, in my class, and she just nodded!"

"Maybe your crushes aren't all that interesting, eh?"

Dawn hit Spike with a pillow. "I at least expected some kind of cross-examination and lots of warnings about boys! Plus, Buffy used to think hearing about my crushes was fun. And Zac is so… perfect. He's got red hair - I know, right? who would've thought I'd go for a ginger! - and the best hands, and -"

"Dawn," Spike remembered why he used to like feeding on teenage girls - when the chatter ceased it was flippin' blissful. "I don't think hearing about your crushes is fun."

Dawn skewered the vampire with a look, in that way only put-out 16 year olds can. "Ok, SPIKE." She folded her arms. "Let's talk about your crush. On my SISTER." Spike hooded his eyes and thought about murder. "Come on, it'll be fun!"

"Shut up, Dawn."

"Actually, you're right. I don't want to talk about Buffy, exactly. What I really want to know is: are you ever considerate and sensitive towards anybody else?" Dawn raised her eyebrows and half-pouted and Spike found himself startled. What a question.

"Well, Niblet, depends on what you call considerate," he tried.

"Just 'cause you have a pet name for me doesn't mean you don't have to answer the question," Dawn shot back. Spike winced. "You're so… smart with Buffy. You seem to make her more relaxed than any of us these days, and that's gotta be because you're actually thinking about what she wants."

"Not exactly…" Spike said, giving in to the kid's line of questioning. She was a Summers, it wouldn't stop until he addressed it. "I guess I think about what she wants but I don't worry about it. You lot worry about it, left right and center. Buffy doesn't want to be worried about. Makes her feel pressured and like she has to lie. I just let her be and sometimes talk to her like I did before."

"I try to make it like it was before, and it doesn't work!"

"Not make it anything," said Spike, knowing as he said it that he was trying to make something - make Buffy love him. But that was besides the point, here and now. "I said treat her like before on occasion, not pretend that she's the same. You're not always going to get a response from her for now, Dawn. She's been through a trauma and needs to be gently reminded of who she is, not whacked over the head with it."

"Who's whacking anybody?" demanded Dawn.

"Well, I'll be whacking Zac if he puts a single orange-fuzzed little toe wrong," Spike said, done with the conversation. "I may not be as 'sensitive' as you hope, Niblet, but my promise to protect you is… up to my own interpretation." He dug up an evil, unpleasant smile for her.

"Uhhhh Spike!" squealed Dawn. "I don't even know if he likes me, and besides you can't hurt humans!"

"I can get one good blow in," retorted Spike, "and I doubt Zac would need much more than that."

"Who's… blowing Zac?" asked Willow, and the two looked up to see her and Buffy in the door frame. Willow started to giggle, "Not me, that's for sure!"

"Willow! Dawn's right here!"

Spike could feel Buffy's sisterly ire from the couch. He stood up, popcorn falling everywhere, and turned on the light.

"OW," Dawn protested, shielding her eyes. "Spike, we haven't finished the movie. And Buffy I know what a blowjob is, how old do you think I am?"

"You weren't watching the movie, pet," Spike cut in. "And I should be off, the ladies are home now." He sniffed and waggled his eyebrows. "Even if Red is a little drunk."

"I am NOT," said Willow, and gave Spike a rather hard 'friendly' punch.

The vampire looked down at his arm like it was painted blue, and then looked at Willow. "Oh, we aren't chums, Red. So I think that little bit right there proves you're not in your head."

"Shut uppp, then, Spike, if we're not 'chums'," Willow made a face at him.

"Ok," Buffy jumped in, even though Spike could see how tired she was. "Will, let's get you up to bed. Dawn, why aren't you in your pajamas?"

"Cause it's Friday night!"

"And now it's way past midnight," said Buffy. "Go get ready for bed."

"But I'm not tired," the younger Summers seemed like she was about to start in on a right proper whine, so Spike intervened.

"Dawn, listen to your sister. Go to bed now and I'll come visit again before the weekend's out." The girl looked at him with suspicion. "For a while. I'll come just to visit YOU. Now quit acting like a cranky toddler."

"Fine," Dawn started to flounce towards the stairs and then stopped. "And stay away from Zac!"

The name started Willow on another giggling fit. She followed Dawn up the stairs, asking "Dawnie, who's Zac? And why is Spike blowing him…?" That made full-on laughter tumble down from the upstairs landing, and Spike caught even Buffy grinning a little.

"You think that's funny, eh love?" asked Spike, sauntering into Buffy's personal space. "Don't tell me you wouldn't like to watch."

Buffy shoved him, but playfully. "Is there something you want to tell me about your… interests, Spike?"

"I was expecting another 'gross' if truth be told," Spike said, surprised into genuineness.

"Well if men can be into watching two women I don't see what the problem is!" Buffy moved so she fit into Spike as close as she could without touching him. "Awww, Spike, did I catch you trying to make me uncomfortable?"

She HAD caught him out, and now the vampire was somewhere between aroused, intrigued and embarrassed. Spike looked down saw Buffy's face, full of humor and recklessness. He tried to think of some response, but was all caught up in the idea of Buffy getting over her prudishness… and how close she was. Before he could make up his mind on what to say, Buffy got right into his face and started kissing him. Spike's mind went empty, but his arms wrapped themselves around his girl. Buffy dominated the kiss, controlling Spike's mouth with hers and positively vibrating against him. He could taste a hint of - bourbon? - warm and sweet to his lips. Buffy brought a hand up to his throat and squeezed a little, and Spike felt himself respond with a thrust of his hips as she gently choked him. Then she pushed his chin back and took her lips down along his jawline, then his throat. She kissed where she had choked and moved on to his collarbone, where she laid on a dozen tiny kisses, then a nip. At the delicate touch of her teeth, Spike had to swallow a moan. Buffy kissed him once more, right where she'd nipped, and then backed off.

"Something to take your mind off… Zac," she said, wickedly. "Night, Spike, you should get going."

Spike's head wheeled as she went up the stairs. If that was Buffy getting even, who knew what was in store if they ever moved on to the main event. He thought about waiting outside for a bit, sneaking up to her bedroom, but decided against it. Better to not push his luck, and to let her sleep off that bourbon. Spike left, and as he carefully closed the door he snickered a little to himself. Rather fond of this crush of Dawn's already, he was.


	6. Chapter 6

Buffy really wanted to be enjoying this fight, but just wasn't. For one, the demon was pretty stinky. For another, her head wasn't staying in the game - as much as she tried to keep focused, her thoughts kept drifting off to Giles being gone and calling Willow but not HER like he promised. That thought led to Buffy being annoyed at Willow for talking about herself the whole time last night, and for getting drunk. Which led to Buffy being embarrassed because she was also a little drunk last night, and had sort of confessed a fantasy to Spike right before aggressively kissing him. Great. While the look on the vampire's face had been very rewarding indeed, Buffy had no idea what to do about him and knew she shouldn't have acted like it was some fun sort of game.

Buffy sighed and began twirling into a high kick - and the demon knocked her grounded leg right out from under her. She landed, winded, and in a moment the demon had pounced on top of her, crouching and grinning. The Slayer squirmed (when did Captain Stinksalot get that fast?!) and tried to avoid the goo dripping off the thing's face. It reared up to take a bite or do something awful and murderous and Buffy just stared at it. She couldn't think of what to do. There was some move that might get her out of this… maybe, but was there even a point? And why wasn't the protection spell kicking in?

As Buffy lay there, just before the big crunch happened, all of a sudden a streak of black tipped with white shot at the monster and threw it off Buffy. She tuned in and realized that Spike had been shouting at her for a while.

"CHRIST Slayer, get your act together! What was that?! Going to let an idiot Porp demon get you?" the vampire yelled as he pummeled away.

Buffy got up and shook herself and went in to help. Maybe that would shut Spike up. Together, they cornered the demon - which, now that Buffy was paying attention, was actually pretty stupid - and Spike reached up, ripped off a tree branch and jammed it through the thing's throat. It died gurgling and without even taking a beat, Spike turned to Buffy.

"I haven't seen such poor fighting since Xander thought he could help patrol! What in sweet Mary's virgin panties was that, Buffy?"

Well, that was one way to take Spike's mind off making out with her. Almost get herself killed and boy would he be distracted. For some reason the thought was funny to Buffy, and she couldn't help herself from starting to giggle a little.

Spike stared at her, looking appalled. Then he turned and stalked away, muttering to himself about stupid bints dreaming about clothes instead of fighting.

"Hey!" Buffy found herself yelling and scrambling after the bleached head. "I wasn't dreaming about clothes! Spike, come on." She knew she should just let him walk away and be mad at her, but she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to make jokes about how "Porp" demon sounded like what it smelled like and not have to go home yet.

Buffy was right at Spike's back when he suddenly turned around, so fast that he elbowed her hard in her chest. Buffy doubled inward, pain spidering out of her breastbone, and fell back on the grass. In an instant, Spike was at her side.

"Oh lord, love, I'm sorry! Didn't mean it, my bad," he babbled, hovering over her.

Concerned mother hen Spike face also struck Buffy as funny, and she was about to start laughing when she realized - no migraine. Spike had bounced right to her side without enough time to recover from the chip, and she hadn't heard any of his signature chip zap arghs. She sat up immediately, almost knocking Spike over.

"Spike," she said, devoid of any humor. "You didn't get a headache, just now. Did you?"

"What?" Spike looked confused at first, but Buffy saw a curtain of understanding come over his face. "Yes, I did, it was just not so bad."

"Spike. I can tell you're lying. You've never, ever, gotten zapped by the chip and not started bellowing about it."

"Come on, pet, I don't bellow," Spike was trying to smile at her.

"Is the chip not working? How long has it not been working? Are you feeding again?"

Spike just looked at Buffy, anger starting to filter into his features. She didn't care - she was furious. Here they were, playing nearly best friends and kissing in secret and Spike was keeping the biggest secret of all. If he was feeding on humans again, she WOULD stake him. She was as dumb as that Porp demon for trusting him, sharing with him! And it seemed like Willow could be right, that protection spell was bollocks, to borrow a certain soulless vampire's phrase. Soulless. Vampire. Soulless. Vampire. That was her new mantra.

"I'll have you know, I haven't tried feeding on anyone in a long time," Spike interrupted the mantra. "So if the chip isn't working, this is the first I know of it, right?"

"Fine, even if I believe you, if your chip isn't working you have to stay under supervision until we get it fixed." Buffy grabbed Spike's arm to march him - where? to her basement? somewhere, it was better than staking him. Which she would do, she just didn't want to, I mean he did love her and had gotten her a shiny magical present at great risk… if he was telling the truth, which now was questionable.

Spike wrenched his arm out of her grip. "Stay under supervision? Who do you think I am, your kid sister? And FIX it? Are you out of your bloody gourd? I'm constantly a liability because I can't fight humans!"

"That's the point of the chip, Spike, you can't fight humans!"

"There are bad humans out there too, you know!"

"SPIKE why don't you get it? If you aren't chipped, I can't trust you!"

That ended the shouting match. Spike heard that last sentence and looked like he'd just gotten a bazooka in the gut.

"And I don't want to lose you as a member of the team," Buffy added, trying to be honest.

"You can't trust me?" Spike wasn't shouting anymore. His voice was low and flat. "If the only reason you let me in was because you had a muzzle on me, then you never trusted me."

The vampire turned on his heel, making his coat swirl out behind him. All of a sudden, Buffy saw him as she hadn't for a long time: a sinister creature of the undead.

"Spike!" Buffy couldn't shake that image, all she knew was that he couldn't be on his own unchipped. She started after him.

"Don't even try with me, Slayer," Spike turned back for a minute. "Maybe you should figure out why you want me on your team - apart from me saving your life just now and all - and then we'll talk."

Buffy stopped. As Spike disappeared into the shadows of the cemetery, she tried to understand everything he'd said. He just wanted to put her off his true intentions, that was all. Of course Buffy couldn't trust him - he didn't have a soul, so without the chip what would prevent him from feeding on humans? Unless… she shook her head. Reformed soulless vampires only existed in tween fiction. She couldn't let another Angelus happen again, let her feelings for an evil - an evil - THING - get in the way of her duty. Let this friendship that had become important cost a life…

Buffy wasn't sure why she had tears in her eyes, but she did know they blinded her as she gripped her stake and turned to follow Spike.

The vampire in question was hurting pretty badly, but not so badly he didn't know how to be practical. First things first, find out if the chip really was broken. Then he'd deal with how little the love of his life believed in him.

As Spike made a beeline for the college campus (drunken frat boys, always worth a slug or two), he realized he didn't know what he was hoping for. That the chip was broken, or wasn't. He definitely hadn't felt a thing when he elbowed Buffy, but maybe it hadn't hurt her? Spike remembered her white face and shook his head. It had hurt, for sure. Then maybe the chip was giving him a break, because it wasn't intentional? Spike gave a sour laugh. When had it ever mattered whether he meant to hurt a human or not? He got zapped all the same. Well, off to see the wizard it was.

After punching several inebriated cave troll-esque males, Spike had a migraine that wouldn't quit and a couple of sore spots from the lads' friends trying to teach him a lesson. It seemed like the chip was working just fine, and if Buffy really was going to come after him Spike had better not incapacitate himself for her. He didn't know how serious she was - staking hadn't quite come up, but it had been in both their heads, he knew it. Honestly, who was he kidding? If Buffy was ready to stake him, if she trusted him that little, he might as well let her. There was no way she'd ever love him if she still thought of him as a dastardly vicious thing with no morals. He wanted to show her that he'd learned something of morality alongside of her, that he had no more interest in murdering people. Yeah, he missed the taste of human blood, but every delectable teenage girl was a Dawn to him now, every gorgeous California blonde a Buffy. Even these useless frat kids were a Xander, important to someone, and every time Spike thought he didn't care, he remembered the crushing blackness that had descended upon him after Buffy's jump. He could lie, and cheat, and steal, hurt and intimidate without qualm, but murder? He couldn't do it. How much of that was because he knew Buffy would repudiate him, Spike wasn't sure, but he knew that at least part of it was knowing unbearable loss. Inflicting that required the truest evil… and what was it the Three had said? "And now not so dark inside?" Hah. Joke was on old Spikey.

"Spike, there you are!" a voice interrupted Spike's semi-coherent thinking, and the vampire whirled around. He ploughed right into Xander, bumping his head hard into the human's. Mutual cries burst from both of them, but Spike's was, admittedly, a bellow. The chip was frying him yet again, so that answered the accidental question. Then what had happened with Buffy? Confused and in horrible pain, Spike let himself sink to the pavement. Let the meathead see his weakness, who cared.

"Geez, Spike, you look out of it," Xander said, rubbing his head. "You drunk or something?"

"Not a bit, but that's a damn great suggestion. What do you want?"

"Buffy is looking for you," Xander replied. "I don't know why, but she wouldn't tell me AND she looked pretty freaked so I'm assuming it's a fighting evil thing." The boy cocked his head at Spike. "Not that you look in any shape for fighting…"

She wouldn't tell the whelp why, huh? Well, that was a bit heartening. The Slayer hadn't wanted to start a witch-hunt, at least. If she was going to off him, at least it sounded like she planned on doing it in person.

"You can tell her I'll be at my crypt," Spike told Xander. No point in putting off the inevitable. He wasn't going to leave Sunnydale, not with a Demon Lord around - no matter how silent - and his life wasn't worth much without Buffy in it. Besides, maybe it was just a fluke.

"Great, of course I'll be messenger boy of the hour Spike, thanks for asking" Xander said. "And by the way - I don't like how much Buffy is relying on you these days. I'll be watching you, vamp boy."

"Get bent," Spike said absent-mindedly, and got up to hobble off. Xander could watch him all he wanted. The important thing now was to get the better part of a bottle of whiskey in himself before his cold-hearted lady showed up.

By the time Spike made it back to his crypt, however, Buffy was already there waiting for him. She just stood, arms crossed, and Spike was relieved not to see a stake show up immediately. He made a beeline for his liquor stash, and pulled out a full handle of self-medication. Glugging straight from the bottle, Spike sauntered back over to Buffy.

"Well, love, if you're here to dust me, I'm sorry to tell you that the chip still works."

"What? How do you know? Did you try to feed on someone already?" Buffy's voice went up in octave with each question.

"Thanks for yet another vote of confidence, love," Spike rolled his eyes and took a swig to cover the hurt. You'd think he'd have gotten used to such accusations by now. "I went over to a fraternity and tried to punch a whole house of drunken human boys. Every single one gave me one hell of a headache."

"Frat boys?" Buffy looked confused.

"They always deserve it," explained Spike. "I even accidentally headbutted Xander when he was looking for me, and that hurt so bad it just about knocked me out. So chippy chip is firing on all cylinders, Slayer. Must've been a fluke, earlier."

"A fluke…?" Buffy frowned. "Why? Unless the chip is degrading or something…"

"Could be," responded Spike, looser now a third of the whiskey was warming his insides. "Shoddy Initiative work, after all. And if that's the case, then we're just going to have to have this nice little chat eventually, won't we pet?"

"Don't call me pet," Buffy said, lamely.

"Whatever. So you gonna stake me now, or later?" Spike could hear his own bitterness, and wondered if it mattered at all to the woman in front of him.

"Spike… I don't want to hurt you," said Buffy. "If the chip is working, I won't." She paused and walked up to Spike so they were eye to eye. "Hit me."

"What?" Spike just about dropped his whiskey. "No, Jesus, Buffy. I don't want to hit you. Under certain… circumstances," the vampire dug up an eyebrow waggle from his last reserve of snarkiness, "I'd be fine with a little kink, but not now, eh?"

"No, Spike, I'm serious." Buffy was unreadable, all of a sudden. "Hit me. What if it's me?" She paused. "What if the chip doesn't work on just me?"

Spike hadn't even considered that possibility. What was different about Buffy? He paced for a minute, taking gulps of whiskey as he did, and then it hit him. She'd been brought back from the dead. What if… what if that was why? Would that mean she was - less than human now?

"Fine," Spike said, not sure where his acquiescence came from. Maybe because he knew Buffy wouldn't give up, maybe because if she wasn't quite human… they could be not quite human together.

They faced each other, and Spike lightly slapped Buffy's arm. No pain.

"Come on, Spike!" Buffy said, angry now. "Actually hit me, you've done it before!"

"Come on, pet," he began, and then she was raining punches and kicks on him. Maybe it was reflex, or the whiskey, but out of no where and at top speed he reached out, picked her up and threw her against the wall. And she let him. Immediately contrite, the vampire rushed over to Buffy.

"I'm so sorry, love, are you all right? I didn't mean to hurt you that badly," he told her. "I'm a wee bit drunk and you surprised me."

"That didn't hurt you, did it." It was a statement, as Buffy got up and brushed off her back. "It hurt me, but nothing happened to you, huh?"

"No," Spike admitted.

"So it's me," Buffy's face was carved out of marble, still and too far to reach. "The chip doesn't think I'm human."

They stood staring at each other for a very long time. Finally Buffy shook herself and turned to go.

"I guess I don't have to stake you after all," she said, dully.

"No, you don't," Spike shot back. Hearing the S word threat finally come out of her mouth rocked him, and he couldn't stop himself. "Because you're a thing like me, now, aren't you? The chip doesn't think you're human because you're not. You came back wrong, Buffy, admit it now. Have you felt right since? You seek me out, you seek out the dark, because that's what feels best. Don't you?"

The blood seeped out of Buffy's cheeks, and Spike knew he was getting to her.

"You belong with me," he changed his tone to coaxing. "We can be dark things together. We can fight on the side of the light, but as who we really are. Not quite human. Not quite good. Warriors, embracing that side of ourselves. You've felt it, Buffy, haven't you?" The vampire was almost crooning now. "You like it. The violence, the blood. You're drawn to it, to me, you wouldn't be you without your love of the dark."

"Stop, Spike," Buffy's voice was tiny, and her eyes seemed not to see him. She walked out of his crypt like she was the bot, mechanical and unaware. Spike didn't try to stop her. She'd need time, of course she would, but she'd see it his way.

The Three came to Spike's mind, and he paused. Was this a choice? He thought for a moment, and decided that if it was, he'd made the right one. If he was meant to be her consort, then Buffy had to acknowledge her dark side. She'd made it clear that she didn't trust him as things were, so the only way anything could happen between them was if she had to change her black and white view of the world. And it wasn't like he was making it all up. The chip had confirmed something, and the Slayer did have an obvious and historic affinity for the dark.

So why didn't he feel better? Settling into his recliner, the vampire figured it was just because he didn't like waiting, and continued to suck down good old Jameson.


	7. Chapter 7

After a few weeks of almost nothing, a few more frozen blood bodies had finally shown up. Willow figured Buffy knew about it, since she'd been looking for Spike like crazy last night when they got shattered, but nope - it was the next morning and Buffy seemed utterly clueless.

Willow was pretty proud of herself again, this time for hacking into the coroner's report and downloading pictures of the bodies, all on her own initiative. Not to mention taking on the Giles role and making Buffy sit down and look at the photos! Willow had thought they were making progress, but Buffy was back in space cadet land and it was all the witch could do to get her attention. Luckily, when faced with some of the nastiest bodies they'd seen in a long time, Buffy pulled it together.

"This is seriously gross," was the first thing out of the Slayer's mouth, but she clicked to the next one anyway. "All of their skin is… shredded. It would be impossible to identify them."

Willow had to agree. The human body had a lot of blood in it, and when all 5 liters of that blood shattered… nothing was left intact. Nothing. Willow shuddered, and decided to lighten things up with a little joke.

"Frozen blood - isn't that a vampire's frosty treat? I bet Spike would be into it!"

"No," said Buffy. "Not even Spike would want to feed on these."

"Sheesh, Buffy, I was just joking," Willow pouted. She couldn't tell from Buffy's face what the deal was, but she was sick of all the recent 'Spike's so great' crap. Even Giles had said that Spike might be useful. Whatever happened to remembering he was an evil soulless demon with hidden motives? Or - not so hidden motives, i.e. trying to get in her best friend's pants!

"All the same age, according to these records… I can't really tell, but seems like they were wearing the 'I'm a socially functional but boring dude' uniform," Buffy flipped back and forth between a few of the files, muttering.

"What's the socially functional but boring dude uniform?" asked Willow, still trying to inject some brightness into this slumber party.

"You know, jeans, collared shirt in a neutral color pretty open at the neck but not tucked in, flip flops or nice-ish sneakers."

"Ah, that uniform," Willow nodded. "How can you even tell, though? Their clothes got shredded too!"

"Not completely… I'm good with clothes, remember?"

"I remember you used to be, but recently not so much with the cute outfits, huh?" Willow didn't mean to, but the criticism just slipped out. She just felt so depressed, despite Yllaine, and having Buffy mope around in the colors of a graveyard wasn't helping!

Buffy didn't even respond, though - typical. Instead she sighed and got up.

"I don't think we're going to get much more out of these body photos," she said. "The weirdest thing is that the coroner's report seems to show that nothing was taken from them. No blood, it was all at the scene, and no missing… bits." The blonde made a squicked out noise.

"Same with the other guys. There were even witnesses when they… exploded or whatever. Nobody around, no beasties nibbling."

"Who were the other guys, did they ever find out?"

"I looked it up this morning, actually," Willow paused for praise. Buffy just raised an eyebrow and Willow huffed on. "They were all in their mid twenties, male, attractive if you're into that sort of thing, came here for college and stayed. Out on a boys' night bowling, friends, but no other similarities. Two had girlfriends." She shrugged.

"Hmm. So what kind of creature likes to take out young guys just for fun?" Buffy asked.

"… a Demon Lord?" Willow pointed out. "Spike did say they are evil mostly for the fun of it. And, I guess it is possible that they could've harvested some sort of power from such instant and simultaneous mystical deaths?"

"Harvested, gross word," complained Buffy. "Makes me think of Soylent Green, or something."

"You know what Solyent Green is?" Willow laughed. "Old dystopian movies don't seem like your thing, Buffy."

"I had to watch it for class. It wasn't that bad… unintentionally hilarious sometimes… what does dystopical mean?"

"Dystopian," corrected Willow. "It means… about an imaginary horrible future, usually hallmarked by corrupt governmental control and lack of resources."

"Ah… now I get why we watched it in environmental science," said Buffy.

Willow wasn't sure that SHE got that, but let it go. She heard a clatter upstairs, and closed her laptop. "Sounds like Dawnie is getting up."

"Yeah. I'll get on making her pancakes, unless you could? I need to go to the library and write a paper at some point today…"

"Way to be a good student, Buffy! Of course I'll make pancakes with Dawn. And just remember - tonight Spike promised to visit her, so he'll be over here." Willow wished she knew why both the Summers sisters were so drawn to a short vamp with bad fashion sense.

"Oh, right," Buffy said, and Willow was relieved to see that she didn't seem pleased.

"I'll supervise if you need me to?" offered the witch.

"No, it's ok. Spike protected Dawn for a whole summer while I was… gone. Why don't you do something?"

"Ok. I'm studying with Yllaine this afternoon, so maybe we can have a longer session or something. Now, go write your essay! It's making of the cakes of pan time!" Willow beamed. She was getting so good at communicating, and focusing on the happy things. Now if she could just make sure that Tara knew how well she was doing.

Buffy got home late, after Spike had already left, thank god. She wasn't ready to see him yet, not after last night. Why had he said all those things to her? That she was evil - well, he hadn't said that exactly, but it was only a quick jump from inhuman lover of the dark to evil. Wasn't it? Buffy valued Spike partly for his honesty, but right now she could've dealt with a little less of it. She couldn't shake the feeling that maybe he was right, and that everyone else was thinking she'd come back wrong but were too polite to say so. That maybe they all wished they'd never bothered to resurrect her. Well, she wished that most of the time, too.

"Dawn's already in bed," Willow said, interrupting Buffy's thoughts. "And why are you sitting in the dark?" The witch flipped on the lights and sat down next to Buffy. "How was the library day?"

"It was fine." Buffy didn't want to get into the details of her psych paper. She'd chosen to write about Zimbardo's prisoners and guards experiment at Stanford, perhaps unwisely. Reading about how people were capable of atrocities they never thought they could commit had not helped her mood. As Buffy read, she had wanted to scream at the participants, remind them it was just an experiment. Not real. Not real.

"Well, I had an amazing day with Yllaine again," Willow boasted. "We worked with this ancient Egyptian spell that you have to have a completely clear mind for. It was such a great exercise, and taught me so much…"

Buffy tuned out as Willow kept going on about the technical details of her spellwork. She'd never met this Yllaine, so the story started out boring and just kept going. Buffy laughed a little internally when the thought occurred to her that she was never bored by Spike. He was a great storyteller, maybe because he didn't seem to NEED to tell them. Unfortunately, he was also good at asking tough questions, as last night had proved.

"...Spike," finished Willow, and rolled her eyes. The vampire's name jarred Buffy back into the room and she shook her head.

"Sorry, Will, what? I was distracted thinking about my… uh, my paper. What about Spike?"

"Just that apparently Dawn had an amazing time with him, blah blah blah. And then he was SO rude when I asked him to leave. Obviously just hanging around waiting for you to show up. I'm really worried about when Dawn realizes he doesn't care about her at all, that he's just using his friendship with her to impress you. Ugh, vampires!"

"Um, I think Spike actually does care about Dawn," Buffy ventured. "He always asks me about her, I dunno."

"When does he ask you about her?" Willow nearly exploded. "Are you spending that much time with him? Geez Buffy, I thought you had more sense than that. He's still a) soulless and b) a vampire, you know blood-sucking creature of the dark? That kind of vampire? Loves violence and mayhem, lost his humanity hundreds of years ago? Who happens to be in some weird twisted love with you! He'd probably throw Dawn under a train if it meant you'd kiss him."

Buffy shifted on the couch. Plenty of kissage had already happened, but Willow didn't need to know that. She wanted to defend the vampire, but couldn't quite muster any words.

"Buffy, look, you know I just want you to be happy and safe," continued her friend. "I don't mean to upset you, and I admit Spike's been a good fighter from time to time. I just think you have to never forget that he isn't human. That he doesn't have a soul, and that means it is impossible for him to be on the side of good. That's all."

"He's done a lot of good things," Buffy felt like her words must sound like the creaks from a door hinge. A sad, possibly inhuman door hinge.

"I know, Buffy, but he's still Spike. His idea of fun is vicious fighting and murder. You have to remember that no soul equals bad. We know this! If I lost my soul, I'd hope that you wouldn't treat me like your friend. I'd be a completely different person, untrustworthy and just... wrong. You might even have to get rid of me." Willow preened at her self-sacrifice, and Buffy suddenly felt a burst of disgust for everything around her.

"I have to go patrol," she said. "We can talk about this later." Willow just sat there, gaping at Buffy's sudden departure from the couch. Thankful for the lack of protest, Buffy scooted herself right out the door and down the block as fast as she could.

As she walked down the quiet block, Buffy began to feel worse and worse. What if SHE didn't have a soul? What if they'd managed to successfully bring back her body and mind and memories, but she was missing her soul? That might explain her lack of emotion, her disinterest in everything except an undead guy, and why the chip didn't fire when Spike hit her. It could even explain the recurrent nightmares of being back in the ground, trying and failing to emerge - the message was that she wasn't supposed to come back. Her body should've stayed in the box in the dirt, where not having a soul wasn't a problem. Buffy felt like she still was on the side of good, but clearly Willow didn't think that was possible. 'I'd be a completely different person... just wrong.' Buffy shuddered. What if the others found out? What if Dawnie found out?

Buffy began to run. Where, she wasn't sure, but with these things in her head, it was the only thing she could do.

Spike lay on a big old sarcophagus, looking up at the stars and smoking. After being unceremoniously shoved out the door by Willow the moment the witch got home, Spike wasn't quite sure what to do. He'd wanted to linger until Buffy showed her face. He was hoping she'd see how good he was with Dawn and be reassured or some such. See, Slayer, inhuman thing getting along all peachy keen like with a teenage girl, not so bad. Maybe she was trying to keep her distance from him - was that a good or a bad thing?

He'd also gotten a bit of an update from Dawn - apparently three more men had died of all the blood in their veins shattering blah blah. The Niblet had eavesdropped on Buffy and Willow from the top of the stairs, and told him that they thought the murders had been for fun, or for energy. Spike didn't like it, but he was betting on the former. Unless the men were magic wielders or carriers of mystical power, the energy from even instantaneous death wouldn't be all that much in the eyes of a Demon Lord. And Spike remembered his days of evil, when causing death and pain for fun was his full-time avocation. But the idea that enjoyment was behind these bodies made the vampire shudder. Demon Lord out for fun and games of destruction, no strategy to help them predict his or her moves… not an easy foe to fight. A monster acting on its every chaotic whim, one of the scariest things he could imagine.

"Come out, come out, wherever you are!" Buffy's singsong voice rang out from just a few tombstones away, and Spike sat up. He started to look around for his lady, but was almost immediately struck by a blow that tumbled him off the stone rectangle and into the grass.

"Come on, Spike!" Buffy said, feral and sharp. "Hit me back. Let's go!" She waited above him, bobbing like a boxer.

"Buffy, pet, whatever it is, can we talk about it?" Spike said in a voice he imagined a man would use to try and calm a lioness.

"I'm sick of talking!" Buffy feinted a kick at Spike's crotch that he just barely managed to deflect with his knee.

"Oi, Buffy! Whatever's got your tits in a knot, you can tell me, but quit it!" Spike got up, looking for a way to penetrate Buffy's defenses and shake her.

"No thanks, Spike! I want to have FUN! What else would we do together, us evil soulless freaks, but get our violence on?!"

All Spike could think was "soulless? Wha-" and then Buffy was fighting like he'd hoped to see her fight ever since she came back from the grave. Elegant, lethal, precise. Only problem was it was directed at him, and now Spike remembered what a challenge this Slayer was. Fierce, intuitive, in perfect control of her superhuman strength and balletic in her agile flexibility. He found himself fighting back, hard but reluctant. Every time he landed a blow, he remembered all over again that he wanted to stop, but before he could Buffy would get in her own strike and he'd be rushing to defend, deflect, slow her down.

They danced across the thick grass, crushing it beneath them and adding a vegetal tang to the night air. Spike weaved and jumped around tombstones, only to be met by Buffy directly in front of him every time. She was grinning like a comic-book villain, joyless and too wide. Spike felt as though he was losing, that under different circumstances he'd fear for himself instead of his girl's sanity. Buffy just kept coming, and Spike's heart wasn't in it.

As though he'd said that last thought aloud, Buffy yelled, "Stop faking it! Fight me like the Big Bad, Spike!"

Spike felt resolve come into his chest. If that was what would get Buffy to stop, then so be it. He threw himself into his moves, no longer resisting. Instead of refusing to take the opening on her right flank, he went for it and landed a solid kick on her ribs. He stopped letting her back him across the cemetery and began to take the offensive, watching her stumble backwards instead. After a brief period of surprise, Buffy responded and it became clear that they were perfectly matched. A timeless, eternal dance between them. Spike was enjoying this against his will, the exertion and the adrenaline. He fought for his undead existence, fought like all he wanted to do was sink his teeth into this Slayer's neck.

And then he had her, in a high school prom clinch, his teeth at her neck - but not without cost. The sharp point of a stake burned into his breastbone, keeping the two of them just separate enough. After all that movement, the stillness felt unnatural, but it was the only option. Spike could tear out Buffy's carotid artery as she staked him, but he'd still be dust. As they stood frozen, he heard the Slayer's heartbeat, smelled her sweat, felt his love for her. Instead of biting, the vampire found himself gently closing his mouth and pressing his lips to Buffy's neck instead. They stayed like that for another long moment, until Buffy dropped the stake and threw Spike back against a gravestone. He'd hardly registered the change when Buffy started kissing him with the same fervor as she'd fought him, pushing him into the lichen-covered stone.

Now this Spike could get into. He kissed back, letting his hands wander all over Buffy's back and arse before he hitched both her legs up and around his waist. She latched on tight and let him spin them around so her back was against the gravestone, bracing her up as he tangled a hand in her hair to intensify their kiss. The proximity of violence between them made her body wrapped around his even headier, and Spike's head was swimming. He couldn't resist sliding his other hand underneath Buffy's shirt to stroke the top of her breast in its little lace cup. Instead of throwing him off as he half-expected, Buffy bucked and moaned in response, and slid a hand down to the button of Spike's jeans. Spike let his fingers find and caress her nipple, and they kept kissing, touching for what seemed like forever. Then, somehow everything sped up, as Buffy managed to free his cock and Spike reached under her skirt to tear her panties - and all of a sudden he was inside her. Everything came to a halt as Spike's mind caught up to his body. He was surrounded by her warmth, hardly able to believe this was happening. Buffy felt so good, fit so perfectly into his arms. She clenched her muscles and swallowed his moan of understanding that this was real, with her lips all over his mouth.

"Spike," she whispered into their kiss, "Spike, oh god, Spike." At the sound of his name coated in Buffy's pleasure, Spike lost all restraint. He pushed himself inside her again and again, shoving her against the carved words of someone else's life. Buffy stopped kissing him and put her hot face against his neck, panting, and he felt the orgasm explode through her. That did it, and Spike came hard, nearly turning blind with the pleasure of it and gasping into the night.

They remained in that position for a while, unable to think or move, until Buffy shifted and unlatched her legs. Spike put her down and quickly put himself back in his jeans. When he looked up, she was staring at him, but with what emotion behind her eyes he wasn't sure. Too aware of how easy it would be to ruin this, Spike took a risk and stepped closer to his Slayer. She didn't move away, so he leaned down and kissed her again, trying to transfer the sweet softness he felt. At first Buffy just let herself be kissed, and Spike began to be afraid. Eventually, though, she began to kiss back, tentatively at first but becoming more and more sensual. Spike felt the twinge of returning arousal, and pulled her into him. He picked her up again, holding her thighs against his hips, and thanked the Powers That Be that they were very near his crypt. Carrying Buffy as she kissed and nibbled his neck, he stumbled through the cemetery to his home.

The moment they were in the door, Buffy's kissing got rougher. He let her down and she slithered off his body, biting hard at his neck as she went. It was enough for Spike's face to try to change, and he stared at the ceiling, willing himself to have control. When he looked back down, Buffy was kneeling in front of him, unbuttoning his fly once more. As if from far away, like he was watching one of his own dreams, Buffy pushed his pants down and put her mouth on his dick. Spike gasped and jerked into her mouth, and Buffy looked up. Seeing her meet his eyes with her lips wrapped around his stiff penis made Spike feel like coming then and there, but he wanted this round to last a bit. He pulled her up and made good use of his vampiric speed, taking off all his clothes and sweeping his girl into his arms. In a few short steps and a jump, they were in the bottom level of Spike's crypt, on the bed.

Buffy lay fully clothed, eyes wide and lips puffed with kissing and heat. Spike leaned in and began licking and nipping at her right ear, as he slowly undid the buttons on her blouse. By the left ear, Spike had opened her shirt and unhooked her bra. He pulled Buffy up and smoothed the shirt from her shoulders, the bra down her forearms, and took a moment to imprint the perfection of her torso on his mind. Small perfectly shaped breasts, strong muscles in her stomach, those clean shoulder lines. He bent his head, pushing Buffy back into the pillows, and began to enjoy every inch of her golden skin. When his mouth came to her nipple, Buffy whimpered and thrust her hips into the air. Spike took that an as invitation to sneak his hand under her skirt, and whimpered himself at the first touch of her wet, warm pussy. He used his fingers to explore, to spread her juices up and down her folds, until he couldn't wait any longer and dove down to bury his head between her legs. Buffy let out a cry as his mouth found her clit, and Spike felt himself get even harder. He slid his fingers into her, back and forth, and kept his mouth working, finding a rhythm that built to a fever pitch. Buffy screamed as she came, and when he felt her convulsions slowing Spike pulled back and drove his cock into her, willing for her pleasure to continue riding with his. Buffy spread her legs wider, throwing her head back and dragging Spike's face to hers for another kiss. Connected at so many points, Spike's love and pleasure felt unbearable, huge and impossible, and he lost himself into Buffy, calling her name.


	8. Chapter 8

Buffy let herself in by the kitchen door very quietly, relieved to see that nobody was in the kitchen. She padded towards the stairway, and stopped at the bottom to listen. Nothing. Buffy wasn't quite sure what time it was, but definitely early. She knew she should probably check the time, and wake up Dawn if necessary, but first things first. Change out of dirty clothes and take a shower so nobody would know - that'd she been up a good part of the night having sex with Spike.

Having sex with the guy, and then sneaking off when she woke up from a wonderfully nightmare-free sleep, courtesy of closeness of Spike. Not her finest hour. Buffy shed her clothes, remembering with a blush that there was a torn pair of her underwear somewhere in Spike's crypt. She wrapped a towel around herself and made it to the bathroom, right as she heard Dawn's alarm go off. Immediately Buffy turned on the shower, staking her claim on the space so she could think uninterrupted. She wasn't sure exactly what she needed to think about, only that she'd rather think about sex with Spike than whether or not she still had a soul. Sex. With. Spike. Those three words kept beating in her head. It had been amazing, no question, but Buffy's conscience wouldn't let her leave it there. Not to mention that she was pretty sore, which acted as a constant reminder of the fighting that led to the sex, and of Spike's fingers inside her and his perfectly curved cock - Buffy shook her head. Maybe she didn't need to think at all. Or she could just do the responsible thing and swear to never get naked with Spike again.

Buffy listed all the great reasons to swear such a thing to herself. One, vampire. Even if she was soulless and potentially evil, Spike was still more potentially evil as a vampire. Two, he loved her and she didn't love him. So, although vampires were amoral, she was being unfair to him. In theory. Three, she had enough on her plate with money problems, an irritatingly inactive Demon Lord, a teenage sister, a best friend with magic problems and nobody older and wiser to help her. Except Spike, a voice reminded in her head, and Buffy almost threw the soap down in exasperation at herself. That was NOT how this list was supposed to end. It was simple: Spike bad. Naked Spike very bad. Naked Spike making her moan and orgasm the worst.

Pounding on the bathroom door broke into Buffy's unsuccessful attempt at lecturing herself. She could hear Dawn yelling, and forced herself to finish rinsing her hair. With a small feeling of resentment at shared bathrooms and sisters, Buffy stepped out of the shower and began drying herself off. When she opened the door, Dawn immediately shoved her way into the small room.

"Get out, Buffy, I have to pee!" said her frantic sister, and slammed the door as soon as Buffy was mostly in the hallway. Buffy realized she was chuckling a bit to herself over Dawn's pee desperation, and in penance hurried to get dressed and start making breakfast.

When Dawn came downstairs and found a ketchup smiley face omelette waiting, her face lit up. "Buffy, you made omelettes! You haven't done that in forever." The teenager sat down happily, and Buffy felt both pleased and guilty for not paying attention to her sister over the past few months.

"Yeah, I should make omelettes more often." Buffy sat down to her own breakfast next to her sister. "Especially since they're one of the only things I can make semi-successfully."

"More than semi," garbled Dawn through a grinning mouth full of eggs. Buffy made a face, and Dawn swallowed. "Sorry, Buffy, it's just yummy."

"Good," said Buffy, cutting into the yellow packet of fat and sodium on her plate. The sisters ate together in silence, until Dawn the Voracious had vacuumed up her entire meal.

"Willow said you were writing a paper all day yesterday," said Dawn as she went to the fridge for a glass of orange juice. "Did you finish it? Is it for a class you like, which classes do you like?"

"Sheesh, Dawn, I'm supposed to be asking you these kinds of questions. You know, the how's school type questions?"

"I guess." Dawn came back with her OJ and perched facing Buffy. "School is actually ok. I really like history this year, it's European and instead of remembering dates we get to learn about trends and political systems and stuff. It's cool."

"History?" Buffy chewed with her eyebrows raised. "History was like... my least favorite subject ever. I have enough dead guys in my life."

"Hah, hah," replied Dawn, giving her signature eye roll. "Hey, speaking of dead guys, I had such a good time with Spike last night!"

"What did you guys do?" Buffy forced herself to ask, pushing away the invading sex. with. Spike. thoughts.

"We just talked, actually. I told him how I was enjoying history and he told me some story about being in Sarajevo when Archduke Ferdinand was assassinated. It was funny, I thought, you know, he'd be into war and stuff, but he wasn't. He said even when he was all evil he thought it was a waste, although Drusilla apparently looooved the chaos." Another eye roll.

"Of course she did," muttered Buffy.

"Also, um... I told him about how I want to learn to fight," said Dawn in a suddenly tiny voice.

"What?" Buffy was startled. "Why? I don't want you in danger, Dawn!"

"I know, I know." Dawn set down her juice glass and looked despondent. "I'm clumsy and stuff, no super powers, he brought all that up too. But when I told him," Dawn hesitated. "When I told him why I wanted to learn he got all quiet. Then he said I should ask you."

"So I should consider this asking...?" Buffy was annoyed at Spike. Way to pass the buck, he should've just nipped this whim of Dawn's in the bud. He knew how she felt about her 15-year old sister being in harm's way!

"Yeah," said Dawn. She took a breath, and ploughed ahead. "Look, I wasn't trying to be mean, but I told him the reason I wanted to learn was because if I ever get in a bad situation, I want to be able to defend myself at least a little. I, um, brought up the tower, and how if I'd been able to fight a little more maybe..." Dawn stopped. "Maybe everything wouldn't have turned out the way it did."

"Oh, Dawnie." Buffy melted, and realized why Spike had given in. "It wasn't your fault. Even if you had known anything about fighting, you probably would've just gotten more banged up. That skeazy little demon would've cut you anyway."

"But -" Dawn started to whine, and cut herself off. She visibly steadied herself, took in a breath. "Can you just think about it, Buffy? Maybe just the basics? Please?"

"I'll THINK about it," Buffy said, and ate the last bite of her omelette. "It's time for you to go to school, you're going to be late."

"Walk me?" asked Dawn, and she looked so hopeful that Buffy had to agree.

"Yeah, I'll walk you. You just can't spend the whole time talking about that Zac guy, alright?"

"Only half of it, I swear!" squealed Dawn, and ran up to her room. "I'll be ready in 5 minutes!" she shouted down.

Buffy sat, probing her inner self. It hadn't been that hard to be Dawn's older sister, just now. It felt pretty genuine, as a matter of fact. Could that be proof that she still had her soul? Buffy brightened for a second, then let her shoulders fall. Affection existed for the soulless, she had to admit it. Obviously Spike was better at talking to her sister than she was, and he certainly didn't have a soul. But he could play the part, when all Buffy could do was engage in meaningless morning banter. Even though it seemed to matter to Dawn, Buffy didn't want to have to think about teaching her sister to fight, or fighting at all really. She wanted Dawn to be happy with a minimum of effort on her part, and most of the reason just now felt pretty good was because all it took was an omelette and half an hour of her morning. Buffy sighed. She felt deep love and concern from her mom when she was alive, all the time, even if they were fighting. Buffy couldn't find that in herself for Dawn - or for anybody as a matter of fact - which meant that something was wrong with her. Like Spike said.

Buffy got up to put the dishes in the sink, and pushed all those thoughts away. Time for a day: walk Dawn to school, head to class, turn in her paper, look for a job, do homework, come home and make dinner, patrol. The concrete, inexorable scheduling of her day threatened to overwhelm her, make her struggle for air - until Dawn clattered down the stairs.

"Ok, Buffy! I'm ready!" the teenager beamed.

"Great, Dawn," Buffy pulled herself together. "Let's go."

Spike had stayed away long enough. When he woke up to find Buffy gone, he'd been furious. The woman had shown up, provoked him to fight, then screwed his brains out and not even had the decency to say goodbye day after. So, the vampire had resolved to not go after her. Let her come to him once she stopped being a twat. Of course, Spike had underestimated his impatience and Buffy's - stubbornness? apathy? capacity for denial? - so here he was, three days later, walking up Revello Drive.

When he got to the back door, Spike realized the entire Scoobie crew was marshaled in the Summers home. Oh, bugger, just perfect. Although, actually... a wicked smile spread slowly over Spike's face. It WAS perfect, let Buffy have to confront him for the first time post-sexathon in front of her friends. She wasn't going to engage with him after the fact, well then this was the result. He'd teach her to pretend he didn't exist!

Spike slammed through the door into the living room, aware of his entrance. Four faces turned up towards him with the same look of surprise, which then turned into four very different reactions. Annoyed resignation from Xander, something that looked like relief from Anya (weird), daggers from Willow and from Buffy - Spike's heart seemed to hiccup. From Buffy he got something he couldn't quite read, something that could be a mixture of guilt and pleasure, or maybe lust and fear. Well, he wasn't going to out her to her friends, she could rest easy there. Spike knew he should say something but felt glued to Buffy's face, trying to discern what feelings fought behind her eyes.

"Spike!" Anya's voice interrupted his thoughts. "I'm glad you're here."

"WHAT?!" asked Xander and Willow in the same tone of incredulity.

"Look, I don't have your Spike-o-phobia going on," Anya said, tartly. "And we're discussing the Demon Lord, which makes Spike useful right now. I'm assuming that's why you're here, Spike? More information?"

"Oh, er, sort of," Spike said, realizing that he hadn't settled on a cover story before bursting into the house. He avoided looking at Buffy by focusing on Anya. "It's not that I have more information actually, it's that I wanted to know if you lot had found anything else. Need to target my investigations and all that."

"We don't know anything more than you, Spike," Willow said, sitting back and folding her arms.

"That's not true now, is it?" Spike folded his own arms. "I hear tell a few more bodies were found last weekend."

"So, you already know about them, then," responded Willow.

Spike sighed and threw himself in an armchair. Why was it that whenever he came to see Buffy he ended up sparring with Sabrina the no-longer-teenage bitch? "I know some bodies were turned into Frosted Flakes, that's all. Nothing about the victims."

"Frosted Flakes? Aww thanks Spike, now I'll never be able to eat those again," moaned Xander.

"Probably a good thing, just empty calories after all," Spike pointed out. "Now, who were these dead guys?"

"Three males in their mid-20s, stayed here post-college, friends but no other similarities," Anya said, matter-of-fact.

"Then... no motive that we can see?" Spike was trying not to reveal that the Niblet had already told him all this. Havin' a spy was useful, and he didn't want her to get in trouble.

"Willow brought up harvesting power," Anya said, "but I nipped that in the bud. No way a Demon Lord would get all that much from three regular human deaths, and there's nothing to suggest that they were other than human."

"Agreed," said Spike. "Then I guess... we've got a fella with a sense of humor?"

"Yup - a vile disgusting sense of humor, kind of like someone else we know, huh Spike?" Willow lashed out.

Spike looked at the witch for a moment. "If you think so Red, I'm not going to change your mind," he said. "But I don't think any of us here can say we're proud of everything we've done in the past."

"What's that supposed to mean?" screeched Willow, but before Spike could answer Buffy cut in.

"Just stop it, both of you. Can we stay focused on the Demon Lord, please?"

"Not like you've been focused on it recently either," grumbled Willow.

"Yeah, I know," said Buffy, and sighed. "I just have a lot to do, between school and job hunting."

"Job hunting?" asked Spike. "You need dough, Slayer?" Come to think of it, she had mentioned something about money problems once or twice.

Buffy started to answer, but Willow interrupted. "Some of us don't steal for a living, Spike."

"True, true, not like you're living in Buffy's house, eating Buffy's food, not paying a dime is it?" Spike knew perfectly well Red was sponging off Buffy, and was glad to have a moment present itself for him to call her on it. The witch gaped at him. "Oh, dear, don't tell me you're not paying rent?" Spike put on a shocked face. "Or buying any groceries?"

"You're not?" asked Anya. "You're living here for free? Why aren't we living here, Xander?" At her boyfriend's look, the ex-demon thought about it, then nodded. "Oh, ok, teenager in the house, can't have loud sex, bad idea."

"Buffy - Buffy never asked me to," stammered Willow.

"Did you ever offer?" Anya was doing his work for him, and Spike loved it. "Because we all know Buffy's pretty hard up."

"Uh, Tara, uh, paid rent," said Buffy very quietly. "I never asked her, she just left it on my nightstand."

"She did? How come you never told me? How come SHE never told me?" Willow's voice just kept going up.

"I just - didn't think about it at the time," Buffy shrugged. "I just wanted you and Tara here. So it seemed... unfair to ask for rent in that situation. I felt like you guys were doing me a favor."

"It wasn't a favor, Buffy. We genuinely wanted to be here." Willow started to cry. "I just never thought of money. I'm sorry I'm a bad friend, I'm sorry, Tara thinks I'm a bad person and now you do too...I just, I just -" Willow trailed off into big soppy tears.

"No, Will, we don't think you're a bad person," soothed Xander. "Do we, Buffy?"

"Of course not, no," said Buffy, and moved to comfort her friend.

That did it for Spike. He got up to leave, sure he'd get no time with Buffy at this point, and disgusted by the scene in front of him. Although Willow's tears seemed completely genuine, she still was making the rent issue all about her. And the other two were jumping right in to make her feel better - it was enough to make Spike remember what the urge to vomit felt like. His eyes met Anya's across the living room, and saw the same irritated distaste in her eyes. He grinned at her, and she rolled her eyes with a smile. Well, at least there was one sane one here. Spike turned and opened the door to let himself out.

Of course, once he was almost at the gate of the cemetery, Spike wished he'd stuck around. It was getting late, Dawn was obviously at one of her silly friend's for the night, and Buffy might have wanted someone to talk to after all that. It was Spike's mission to be that someone, and he was failing. He sighed. Not to mention that he missed his girl. The vampire wanted another night like a few weeks ago, when Buffy poured her heart out to him and let him console her. When she stroked his hair and teased him, but with sweetness. Spike wanted that - wanted to just talk to her - more than he wanted to be inside her again. Then he smirked. Ok, maybe that wasn't quite true...

No sooner than he thought of it, Spike heard jogging feet behind him. He spun around, seeing the golden vision that was Buffy for only a second before she took one quick leap and wrapped her legs around him. Immediately her mouth was on his, setting his lips on fire. Her hands were on his head, fingers tangled in his hair. Spike couldn't do anything but stumble back, into the shadows of the cemetery walls. He braced his back against the stones and let himself enjoy the onslaught of sensation. She kissed and bit him, always stopping just short of drawing blood, and after a bit Spike couldn't help himself. He grabbed the back of her hair and yanked her head back, baring her throat to him. Sensuously aware of the Slayer blood pulsing just beneath her perfect skin, he began to trail his tongue along her jaw, down the line of her neck. He placed a kiss in the center of her breasts, and pulled her shirt aside to tease her nipple with his tongue. Buffy used her legs to hug him to her core in encouragement, and Spike decided to try something. Gently, he scraped his fang across the tip of Buffy's nipple. She let out a strangled noise and thrust her breast into his face, so Spike began to nibble and lick, dividing his time between both perfect globes.

Buffy began to rhythmically push into his waist at Spike's attentions, and then unlocked her legs. The moment her feet were on the ground she tossed Spike around so that she was between him and the cemetery wall. She tore open his jeans and pulled out his throbbing cock, rubbing it's head between her little hands. Spike gasped and put out a hand over her head to support himself against the wall. Buffy began kissing him again, and he bit her bottom lip, hard. At that she turned around, her back to him, unbuttoned her jeans and slid them down to her ankles. Bracing herself against the wall, she looked over her shoulder at the vampire.

"Fuck me, Spike," she growled.

He didn't need to be invited twice. He drove himself into her tightness, overwhelmed all over again by how exquisite she felt. Buffy pushed her hips back so her ass was nestled against him, and arched her back.

"Spike... you're so big, oh god... oh god, just like that, stretch me with your huge cock," Buffy panted, stream of conscious that made Spike thrust himself deeper, harder. Buffy gasped, and pulled away a little - he'd gone too deep. Spike stopped for a moment and caressed the perfect pale rise of her buttocks, then slapped one side hard. Buffy jerked and moaned, and started moving herself back and forth on his cock. He watched her for a minute, her slick red lips surrounded his rock-hard whiteness. Then he pushed her against the wall so her sensitive nipples were against the cold rock, and slapped her ass again. Buffy got wetter, if that were even possible, and Spike moved his hand to her clit. He rolled it between his fingers, pinched just a bit and slapped it lightly.

"Yeah, Spike, yeah," Buffy begged. He obliged, slapping her clit in between rubbing it roughly, and when Buffy tightened around him, he began to kiss her neck, her shoulders, still rubbing her slippery mound.

"Buffy," he whispered into her ear. "You feel so tight, so good, you're a fucking queen, Buffy, come for me, love. Come for me." He felt her begin to convulse at his words, and her muscles rippling around his cock brought him to the edge. Buffy's hand found his on the damp rock of the wall, and they came together in a glorious rush.

They stood, coming back down to earth linked by their hands. Buffy's breathing surrounded Spike, and all he could feel was his love for her. After a long moment, Spike wanted to see his girl's face, so he slid out of her. That broke the spell, and Buffy dropped his hand. Keeping her back to him, she pulled her jeans up from around her ankles. Spike did the same. She adjusted her shirt, ran a hand through her hair, and slowly rotated to face him.

"I, uh, have to go, Spike," she said.

"Wait, what?" Call him an idiot, but Spike had not been expecting that. First she leaves before the morning, and now she just wants to walk away? "Buffy, come and sit with me a while. Haven't talked to you since..." Since I told you that you came back wrong, Spike finished silently in his head. Unbidden, the memory of Buffy telling him she wanted to have fun like a soulless thing a few nights back came to his mind. He hadn't even thought of it since, although he'd registered that it was strange at the time. Did Buffy think she didn't have a soul anymore?

"I told them I was just going on a quick patrol, ok?" Buffy was quick to jump into the gap. "I - uh - bye."

And she was off. Spike could've followed and tried to shake some sense into her, but he felt too awful to move. Not only did the fuck and run leave him feeling disgusting and used, now he was wondering if both times had been a kind of hate sex. He'd caused Buffy pain and doubt by telling her she came back wrong - in retrospect, NOT the best choice of words. So she wanted to be with him out of what? Self-hatred, some masochistic desire to give herself over to the person that had hurt her? Spike kept coming back to the idea that Buffy was torn up because she didn't know if she had a soul anymore - and realized that he didn't know if she was ensouled or not, either. Contrary to popular Scoobie belief, losing your soul didn't always completely change your personality. If Red's spell had failed to restore Buffy's soul after death, none of them would really have any way of knowing.

Spike kicked a clod of grass and dirt. That stupid bloody myth that having a soul somehow made you inherently better. He'd known of plenty of humans with souls commit depravities beyond any vampire's imagination, and he knew through his own heart that love and morality were possible for a soulless creature to learn. But if Buffy thought that not having a soul made her a potentially evil liability... Spike found himself pacing back and forth. She'd been instructed for years that those with souls were to be protected and those without were to be eradicated. He understood that on the part of the stinking Watchers, unfortunately. If their Slayers were to be the most efficient weapons, they had to never question the morality of their fight. A blanket "all vampires/demons/soulless beings are evil" was a great rule of thumb, in that case. But Buffy had already learned that it wasn't so black and white, hadn't she? Or had the ridiculous transformation that was Angel/Angelus cemented the dichotomy in her mind forever?

Spike shook his head. First things first. He could think of a few ways to help Buffy without embarking on the tremendous task of convincing her that the existence of a soul mattered a lot less than she thought. Besides, taking action would feel a lot better than wallowing in the understanding that his recent physical intimacy with the love of his unlife was the opposite of what he'd hoped it was. Spike turned on his heel and in hurt anger at himself, at Buffy, at Glory, at everything, lashed a kick at a nearby tombstone. His heavy boot struck it squarely, and with a howl of protest the stone shattered. The pieces crashed into each other, sending grey puffs in every direction and making a noise like a broken heart.

"Sorry, mate," the vampire muttered, and strode off as the dust settled in his wake.


	9. Chapter 9

In the moment, Tara was surprised to find that it was Spike pounding on her door at 3 am, but in some ways she'd been expecting him for the last few weeks. She and Spike had always gotten along, albeit in an obscure fashion, and considering that the door of the Summers house was not exactly wide open for either of them anymore... well, it just made sense. Tara wished the vampire hadn't chosen the wee hours of the morning to make a call, but not like she could change that now. Here he was, sitting on her bed, playing tough guy to hide what she sensed was a deep and fresh cut to his heart.

"I know I should say I'm sorry for waking you," Spike sneered. "But I'm not, so if I said it would be a lie. And I know good boys aren't liars, and I'm trying to be a good boy now, aren't I?"

"Are you, Spike?" Tara was cautious, both out of courtesy for whatever was wrong with him, and out of fear. He was a vampire, after all.

"Unfortunately yes," Spike said shortly.

Tara waited, and he took a deep breath that his dead lungs didn't need. She thought yet again how funny it was that Spike still presented as so human, so full of vitality and passion. She understood why he was drawn to Buffy, a living girl who sometimes seemed so sober and controlled.

"It's for Buffy," Spike finally got out. "I need you to make sure she still has a soul after Red's resurrection hoodoo. I can't ask Red, you know better than me why, and it's important."

"W-w-w-what?" stammered Tara. "You think Buffy didn't come back with her soul?!"

"Not me, her. SHE thinks she might not have come back with all her metaphysical bits, so to speak." Spike paused, and Tara saw that pain she sensed flash across his elegant features. "Ok, so the reason she thinks that is probably me. I never thought she'd lost her soul, but thing is, see, I can hit her. And the chip doesn't react..." His voice broke, but he forced himself to continue. "When we found that out I told her she'd come back darker. I said... she'd come back wrong."

"Ah," Tara said.

"What does ah bloody mean, Glinda?" Spike snarled. "You sitting there thinking aww poor Spike the neutered vampire, fucked it all up with the one person he loves in this sorry shitehole?"

"No," Tara was gentle. "I think you could be right, at least about some of that. After she came back, Buffy's aura was much darker. Dark enough to indicate that she was soulless, I don't know. There is some chance that she came back witouth it..." Tara couldn't help the sadness that crept into her tone. "Willow didn't exactly cover all her bases with that spell."

"Don't I know it," muttered Spike.

Vampire and witch sat in silence for a moment, each caught up in how that one spell had changed both of their lives irrevocably. Tara knew that Spike wouldn't give up having Buffy back for anything, but there was a selfish part of her that wished Willow had failed. A failure might have halted Willow's rise to power, her self-absorption and her pride.

"Magic always comes with a price," murmured Tara.

"How come you love Red so much?" asked Spike out of nowhere. "She's been a right bitch princess every time I've seen her recently."

"Why do you think I left?" Tara tried to offer Spike a smile, but knew even as she did that it was a poor one.

"Come on, can't you tell me the truth?" Spike met Tara's eyes squarely. "I'm sitting here and you can't tell me that you don't know that I love Buffy hopelessly and forever. Eh?" Tara shook her head. "Then help a bloke out. Tell me the nature of idiotic love for humans."

"Willow... I guess it started because Willow and I were the only two girls really into magic, that we knew about. That gave us a place to start to be friends. I thought... well, I felt romantic about her pretty early on, but I never thought she'd be interested until..." Tara shrugged. "She saw inside me. She could see even my stutter and my shyness and still reflect a beautiful, clever, confident version of myself back at me. She was gentle and patient when I was unsure, but she was also so silly and clueless about some things. I loved the way she soaked up knowledge, and how hard she pretended not to care when someone else got better grades. She was everything: beautiful and brilliant and disciplined and funny and loving..." Tara realized she was crying. Embarrassed, she began to turn away, but Spike reached out and caught her hand between both of his. Surprising herself, Tara let him have it.

"Sorry, witchlet," Spike said. "Didn't meant to make you so upset."

"Really?" Tara raised her eyebrows at him. "Don't forget good boys don't lie."

"I'm not," Spike said, guileless, and Tara believed him. "I was being selfish and poking at you, and I'm sorry it made you cry." He paused and rubbed the top of her hand a little. "I liked Red a good bit meself, before she turned into the Great and Powerful Oz."

"Oz," repeated Tara. "That was Willow's boyfriend, before, remember?"

"Yeah, little ginger werewolf, what about him?"

"Nothing, I guess. Just that he left her, too. Because he thought he couldn't control the demon inside him... and now she can't control herself."

Spike dropped Tara's hand like he'd just realized he held it. "I'm not interested in Red's romantic history, as exciting as I'm sure it is." His voice was harsh again, hiding his empathy. "What I want to know is can you help Buffy? I'll pay you, whatever."

"You don't have to pay me, Spike." Tara was a little offended. "Of course I'll look into it - for Buffy and for you."

"For me, eh?" Spike shook his head. "None of you Scoobies does anything for me, let me remind you."

"And let me remind you that I'm not a Scoobie," Tara said, iron in her voice. "I will do this because I want to help Buffy, but also because you came to me and asked out of love. I see your heart, Spike, and I'm not going to ignore it now just because you used to be evil."

"Used to be?" With demon quickness, Spike grabbed Tara's hand back and planted a kiss on it. "You really aren't a Scoobie. You are something greater and more generous, Glinda."

With that, Spike made for the door. As he closed it behind him, Tara stood up, still feeling the imprint of his lips on her skin. Although the movement had startled her, it hadn't scared her, which told her that her inner senses found nothing to fear from Spike. Funny, him being of the soulless undead and all.

lt was Xander that woke Buffy. Well, more accurately it was Xander that got her out of bed. She'd been awake for a while, fresh off of the same old nightmare and staring at the ceiling. His pounding on the door interrupted her attempts to find the motivation to get dressed and go to class, which solved the problem for her.

"Coming, Xander, jeez," Buffy hollered as she swung her legs out of bed and went for the closet. Throwing a sweatshirt over her tank top, she turned to open the door, but paused. Staring at the white panels, Buffy wondered if there were any way to avoid dealing with whatever Xander had to tell. Just lock the door and refuse to come out? Climb out the window and run to Spike's? Fling herself out the window in the hopes of breaking as many bones as possible? Rejecting each strategy with regret, Buffy turned the doorknob.

"Buffy!" Xander said before she could even open her mouth. "There's something going on at the university library. No one can get in and there are students in there. We don't know what's going on but it's not good."

Buffy shook her head as though she could dislodge Xander's barrage of words from her ears. "Wait. Uh. What do you mean no one can get in? Like it's lock-"

"NO," Xander shook his head vigorously. "Like anyone trying gets their hand frozen. Like the bodies except just their hand, it freezes and then explodes. Three people have gone to the hospital already."

For some reason Buffy could handle the six bodies she'd seen, but the idea of people walking around with a pulpy mess at the end of their wrists made her gag. She pushed past Xander to get out of the claustrophobic hallway and go down the stairs. Dawn was in the kitchen, wide-eyed and not eating her cereal.

"Buffy, what's going on? Xander says maybe I shouldn't go to school today?"

Good on Xander, Buffy thought. She might have unthinkingly pushed Dawn out the door to get her out from under foot, but if this was happening on the college campus then the middle school certainly wasn't safe.

"Yeah, stay home today, Dawnie," Buffy said as kindly as she could manage. "There's something going on at UC Sunnydale and I don't want you out there."

"What something...?" asked Dawn.

"Nothing you should probably see, kiddo," said Xander, coming down the stairs with a sleepy Willow in tow. "But Miss Hacks-a-lot here is going to get us in the library surveillance camera network so we can find out."

Xander must have had his wheaties this morning, because he was on top of this situation. Buffy was impressed, considering that her brain still felt like the consistency of wheaties rather than functional. Pretty quickly, Xander had set Willow up with her computer and brought over a cup of coffee. A little more clear-eyed with some caffeine in her, the witch had the video streams pulled up in five minutes.

"I don't know what we're looking at," Willow said. "There are a bunch of students - oh god they're naked! Uh, in those little private study rooms off the main stacks in the basement. Then there are more students that seem to be protecting the private rooms? They're carrying weapons of some sort."

"Let me see." Buffy nudged Willow aside to see the computer screen. She studied the images for a minute, feeling as confused as Willow. In the background she dimly heard Xander talking quietly to Dawn, getting her up to date and keeping her away from the laptop. Why would some students be protecting other students, who were for some reason naked in the study rooms? Suddenly one of the naked students began pounding on the door of their room. There wasn't any sound, but it looked like she was screaming. One of the outside students went to the room, unlocked the door and wrenched it open, making the girl fall to the floor. Then, increasingly horrified, Buffy watched as the clothed student kicked the girl in the stomach, and then used a weapon to hit her ribs. Using kicks and strikes, the outside one herded the girl back into her study room. Some corner of Buffy's mind that wasn't freaking out registered that the study room was the same one Buffy had written her essay in, her essay on...

"Oh my god." Buffy felt like she was going to be sick. "It's prisoners and guards. It's the Zimbardo experiment. They're carrying wooden batons and it's set up in the basement... oh my god."

"Zimbardo...?" asked Willow, furrowing her brow and trying to place the name. Buffy couldn't respond as she watched the male guard stand over the blonde girl and smile while he unbuckled his belt. She wanted to run, hurl herself at the library doors and beat this guy into a pulp, but she knew she'd never get there in time. Grace was suddenly granted, as a female guard ran in and grabbed the man by the arm, shaking him and dragging him out of the cell. Buffy waited for her to go back in and tend to the prisoner in some way, but instead she just shut the door, locked it and pointed for the other guard to take her place in front of a study room with a male prisoner. Buffy was relieved in the moment, but knew that it would only get worse. Zimbardo's experiment had been terminated after 6 days, and clearly this group was starting from a place farther along in the transformation of people into abusive sadists. It was only a matter of time before rape and violence escalated to a place none of these victims would ever recover from.

"Wait, Zimbardo! I remember that experiment, it got completely out of control!" Willow burst out. "Why would the Stanford prison experiment be happening in UC Sunnydale's library...?"

"Because I wrote my paper on it," Buffy whispered. "And there's a blonde in the room I wrote it in... it's a message. To me."

"Oh, Buffy..." Willow was lost for words. Buffy felt Xander's hand descend lightly on her shoulder, and she was grateful for the physical anchor. Xander could be a prejudiced ass at times, but Giles was right. He wasn't going away anytime soon.

And neither was Willow, who shook herself and came up with action. "Buffy, I'm going to go find Yllaine. She can help us scan the building for a weakness in the defense or an object that is anchoring the magical barrier. I think we could also do a quick mapping of the area to find spots of serious magical residence. Casting this kind of thing would've left a big mess. If we can't find the Demon Lord, we'll at least get into the library, ok?"

"Good idea, Will," Buffy said, still feeling faint. "What - what can I do? All I know how to do is fight, and if I can't get in there..."

"Uh," Willow hesitated. "To be honest, Buffy, I don't know. Maybe just be at the scene. There's probably panic and you should make sure nobody tries to get in again... and maybe you'll get some information."

"Or would you rather stay here with Dawn?" asked Xander. "I can go to the library, if you... um, you know, don't want to."

Buffy steeled herself. This made her want to run and hide in a hole as much as it made her want to find the Demon Lord and end his existence. The latter was scarier, but unlike the blood bodies this wasn't something she could put to the back of her mind. This was active, happening now, and the mental and physical health of humans were at stake.

"I'll go to the library," Buffy said. "I should be there anyway. Xander, can you look at the floorplans of the library? They might have something useful in them."

"Got it, Buff," said Xander, looking relieved.

Dawn made no protest at being left out, and Buffy and Willow got ready to go as fast as they could. Buffy wasn't sure what was prompting Dawn's uncharacteristic silence, but figured the scenario was sobering enough to keep the teenager in check. She gave her sister a hug and propelled herself out the door. To the library.

"Christ, Dawn, I was sleeping," Spike said, sitting up while making sure the sheets were covering his bits. "And shouldn't you be in school? Don't get me in trouble with big sis just because you felt like playing hooky."

"I'm not playing hooky," Dawn said, tossing her head. "Buffy told me not to go to school today. There's this thing happening at the library on campus, so she told me to stay home! Ok?"

"Told you to stay home - but you're at my crypt waking me up. Lovely. Let me guess, you want me to do something? A Summers woman has a request for me?! Oh glory be. Guess I'll just pop right up and do whatever you say."

Dawn's face had been slowly crumpling throughout Spike's sarcasm, and by the end of it, she looked like she was about to cry. There was a small part of Spike that was pleased he still had the power to wound someone, anyone, but the rest of him felt guilty the moment he fell silent. He shouldn't be taking out the callousness he'd gotten from Buffy on the Niblet.

"Sorry, Bit," he said. "I'm just a bit cheesed off at your sister is all. You're a fair sight better."

"Why are you mad at Buffy?" asked Dawn, now big-eyed and ready for information.

Spike sighed and was about to give a noncommittal answer in no way related to sex, when he realized he was still in bed. Naked.

"Dawn, I don't mind explaining but could you let me put on some pants?"

The teenage girl squealed half in horror and half in titillated delight and ran up to the top level of Spike's crypt. Spike couldn't help himself from an affectionate chuckle. He knew that adolescence wasn't fun, but still envied Dawn's unmeasured responses to everything. Must be nice, to see the world and everyone in it with fresh eyes.

When Spike got up to the top part of his home, Dawn was already sitting in his armchair leafing through the book of Demon Lord history. Spike knew Buffy would want him to rip the sometimes-graphic volume out of her kid sister's hands, but he wasn't up for doing Buffy's bidding at the moment. Niblet was going to have to lose the innocence he'd just been admiring sometime, and he'd rather she learned the worst by reading about it rather than walking into it firsthand.

"What did Buffy say about teaching you to fight, by the way?" Spike asked, sitting across from Dawn.

"She said she'd think about it. Now why are you mad at her?" Dawn asked, undeterred by the question of her own training.

Spike sighed, and settled for a PG rated version of the truth. "You know how I feel about your sister. And SHE knows how I feel about her. But still she comes around, looking for attention or help from me just because she knows I'll give it. It's not a nice feeling, being taken advantage of."

"She cares about you, though," said Dawn. "I can see it. Whenever I mention your name, her face changes a little bit. She tries to hide it, but she's bad at hiding her feelings, you know that."

"Twitching her little nosie when she hears about me doesn't mean she cares for me, Dawn. I appreciate where you're coming from, but you're right - she is bad at hiding how she feels and that's how I know I'm just… convenient to her."

"Oh, Spike," said Dawn, eyes soft. "That's not true. Even if things are unequal between you, you're not just a convenience." Dawn paused, and their words floated between them for a long moment. "And… if it matters… I love you."

That rocked Spike. Here he was, being selfish enough to whinge about his problems to a 15-year old girl - and here she was, the first person in centuries to speak of untainted love for him. He felt tears tugging at the corner of his eyes, and turned his head away.

"So what's the deal over at the library?" Spike asked gruffly. He could see the hurt in Dawn's eyes from his lack of response, but just didn't know how to say it back. A pure offer like that, how could he just casually return it? Then again, perhaps Dawn knew more than he could say, because she gathered herself and answered his question without rancor.

"There are students in the library, trapped in some sort of magical scenario. Nobody can get in, the moment anyone touches a door or a window all the blood in their hands freezes… sound familiar?"

"Bloody hell," Spike swore. "What's the magical scenario, do we know?"

"Willow pulled up the live surveillance camera footage, and Buffy said it was prisoners and guards? Something about a Zimbardo experiment that she'd written a paper on last weekend…" Dawn hesitated. "She said there was a blonde girl imprisoned in the study room she'd been working in. That it was a message. To her."

"Zimbardo, that trout-sucking bastard." Spike got up and started to pace. "I'm a vampire and I could see that experiment was bloody unethical. And I don't doubt it's a message to Buffy. That's how Demon Lords work, fun and frolic and psychological mayhem. Did you see how the students were acting? Nasty yet?"

"Yes," said Dawn in a small voice. "I peeked at the laptop when Xander wasn't looking, and all the prisoners are naked… I saw a guard break a prisoner's ribs because he, um, peed all over himself…"

"Right then, sounds like things are pretty advanced already. Sorry you had to see that, Bit. What's Team Fatheaded up to?"

"Uh… you mean Xander?" asked Dawn. "He was supposed to be watching me."

Spike laughed. "Good on the lad. No, I mean the whole lot of you."

"Buffy is at the scene, Willow is getting her teacher lady to try to find a way to take down the spell keeping us from getting in, at least. I came because I thought you might be able to get in through the tunnels."

"Yup, there are some scholarly demon types who keep the underground paths to that library wide open. I'll head over - tell Willow and whoever her teacher is that I'm doing that. Maybe they can just focus on getting me in. Tell Red she can talk in my head, if she must - sparingly, though!" Spike grabbed his leather jacket.

"Ok," Dawn said, beaming with the responsibility he'd just given her. She made a beeline for the door, but Spike caught her arm.

"And Niblet?" he said, looking directly into her eyes. "Be careful. Don't want anything happening to someone I love, no matter how annoying they can be."

Dawn flung her arms around Spike for a moment, but knew better than to highlight his admission. With the most beautiful smile he'd ever seen from her, she launched herself into the sunlight.

As he went in the opposite direction, down into the dark, Spike felt good. It was right to tell Dawn that he loved her too. Although he'd managed to get the words out after a fashion, it showed him how hard it was. Maybe what he wanted from Buffy was a little unfair, asking too much? Dawn had just told him she loved him, direct and with no expectations. Every time he'd ever told Buffy, it had been him pushing his feelings on her, a goad to make her feel pressured to return them. Spike sighed into the earthen quiet of the tunnels. Maybe someday, he'd be able to say that he loved Buffy without looking for anything more.


	10. Chapter 10

By the time Anya got to the library and found Buffy in the crowd of screeching, scared people, the front of the library had become a giant screen. As she pushed through babbling students and white-faced faculty, she heard claims that every screen in Sunnydale had been taken over by footage of the library basement. If that was true, then the projections on the library facade were no different than what was showing all over town - except that the picture was remarkably clear, and huge. Ten foot tall images of guards strode back and forth, with the outline of windows and brickwork vaguely behind them. All the prisoners were huddled in little balls, misery and fear evident in every curve of their nude forms.

"Buffy!" yelled Anya, trying to get the short blonde to hear her from several people away. Buffy didn't respond as she stared up, fixated on this view into the basement. Anya finally got to the Slayer and shook her arm. Buffy turned towards her, but seemed to be looking straight through Anya. While the ex-demon realized this was a difficult situation, she was a little insulted that anyone could look through HER - so she shook Buffy's shoulders harder and yelled in her face, "BUFFY!"

That did it, and Anya saw Buffy register the person in front of her. "Xander sent me, Buffy," Anya told her. "He wanted me to tell you what I told him, which is that Demon Lords go for the emotional jugular. Whatever is happening right now, this one has identified you as the enemy and is calculating how to psychologically weaken you. You have to be prepared, and much more pep talky nonsense that Xander said."

"They made her a guard," Buffy whispered. "The prisoner in my study room, the blonde? For no reason they brought her out and gave her a uniform and made her a guard… and now she's the most vicious one."

Anya looked closely at Buffy's face. "You're scaring me, Buffy," she said. "I know you're all depressed about being ripped out of heaven - I get that. But it's battle time. You know, fight fight fight, hopefully win?"

"You don't understand," Buffy said, eyes unseeing once more. "She was a victim… she should have compassion for the others, but instead she used her baton -" Buffy choked. "She used it to rape one of the male prisoners."

"Oh god," Anya said. "Intestines I get, you know that, but even when I was a demon I was NOT into sexual assault. Revenge for it, now, was the backbone of my business - I mean my career - you know what I mean."

Buffy didn't respond. She was back to staring at the giant soap opera of horror in front of them. Anya huffed. "Fine, ignore me, that's what you do all the time anyway." She was turning to go, when Buffy stopped her with a hand on her arm.

"Anya, I'm sorry," she said. "I'm not trying to ignore you. I don't mean to ignore you, ever. Please stay. I… I don't want to be here alone."

Anya softened a little. For the Slayer to admit weakness, to her of all people, was no small thing and she knew it. But… "Why do you have to stay here?" Anya asked, perfectly reasonably.

"Someone has to bear witness," Buffy's voice was soft. "Someone has to watch what they go through, so that if - when - the spell is broken they're not alone."

"Bear witness?" asked Anya. Of all the human things she'd heard, that had to be one of the most ridiculous. "Maybe they won't have their memories when they snap out of this, and then making yourself stand here and watch this will be completely useless."

Buffy was about to answer, when both women were distracted by a familiar figure onscreen. Glimpses of platinum hair and a lean frame in a long leather coat were flashing through the stacks, clear to the watching crowd but not yet apparent to the guards.

"Spike?" Anya was incredulous. "How did he get in there? He has both his hands intact. What is he doing?"

"I don't know how he got in," breathed Buffy. "But he seems like he's looking for something..."

"Oh." Anya nodded her head. "He's looking for the anchor to the spell. Best place to put it is in a space where everyone is under the illusion, of course it should be in there somewhere."

"Spike," whispered Buffy. Anya was pretty sure the Slayer didn't even realize she had just said the vampire's name, and rolled her eyes. Why everyone was so anti-Buffy and Spike was beyond her. Spike was quite attractive, and he was a great fighter devoted to Buffy. A fine mate, if you asked an ex-demon with a little bit of sense. Although... thinking of the word "mate" made Anya sigh. She thought getting Xander to announce their engagement would make her less, well, twitchy in their relationship, but it hadn't, really. If anything, Xander was even less into sex than before and even more uncommunicative. So maybe not so much on the sense front...

Anya realized her thoughts were taking an inconveniently personal track for a crisis moment, and brought herself back to the screen. Spike was still hidden from the guards, but the blonde guard that Buffy was so upset about was opening another prisoner's cell. So much for hoping for quiet while Spike snooped, thought Anya. She looked to her side and saw Buffy clenching her hands together, knuckles white and fingers stiff. It looked uncomfortable, and Anya realized she was very sympathetic to Buffy in this moment. The Demon Lord WAS psychologically manipulating Buffy, in no small part by keeping her passive and forcing her to see the injustice she could do nothing about. Anya remembered from her vengeance demon days how frustrating it was when she'd feel the pain from a woman whose husband was abusive, and yet find when she appeared that the wronged wife wouldn't make a vengeful wish. Trapped in a sick system of dependence and false love, unwilling to break out despite the daily beatings, these women would close down and send Anyanka packing. This wasn't the same thing, Anya admitted to herself, but she knew the feeling of not being able to use your powers as they were meant. Although she'd never done anything like this before, Anya reached down and pried Buffy's hands apart, taking one in her own. Buffy let her hand relax in Anya's for a moment, and shot her a grateful look - until they both turned back to the library images and Buffy's hand instantly turned into a vice grip on Anya's fingers.

Spike had thrown himself amongst the guards, tackling the blonde one in the midst of her torture session. He managed to throw her across the room and into the stacks, but Anya could see him reacting to the chip's protests. That slowed him down, and the other guards launched into kicking and beating the vampire with their batons. Spike threw his arms up to protect his face and began edging towards the warren of bookshelves. When he got to the edge, he violently shoved past his attackers. Pushing through the chip's response, Spike began to run away from the prisoner cells. He got a little ways in before the guards had reorganized to surround him. They came from all corners, trapping Spike in an aisle and beginning once again to beat him.

"The chip, oh that goddamn chip," Buffy swore. Anya looked at her in shock - she'd never heard the Slayer use what humans called 'the Lord's name in vain' before. Buffy dropped Anya's hand and started towards the library entrance. "I have to help him."

"Wait wait wait," Anya babbled, running after the idiot girl. "You can't DO anything if your hands are a mess. Don't be stupid! That's what the Demon Lord wants."

Buffy whirled around in frustration. "Then what am I supposed to do, Anya? I've been forced to stand here for the better part of the hour and watch atrocities happen to strangers - now I'm supposed to watch them happen to someone on my team? He can't defend himself!"

Anya had no answer for Buffy. She didn't want to watch Spike get beaten into a pulp either, but practicality was important. Buffy really couldn't do anything to get in, and she could do even less without hands. Buffy resumed her forward march, and Anya clenched her fists. She hated when Buffy and the Scoobies were this set on ignoring facts. Going after the Slayer again, Anya pushed a clump of people aside and suddenly saw Tara. Tara noticed her at the same moment, and Anya could see her grasp the situation with Buffy.

"Buffy! Anya! BUFFY!" Tara yelled. "Over here! I can get you in, I think!"

Those words finally made Buffy stop short, and run to Tara with Anya in her wake. They reached the witch, who immediately hollered at the people around her to make some room. As Anya had noticed most humans in a crisis situation usually did, the crowd responded to any voice with authority, and backed away from the three women. Tara sat down in the grass and held out her hands.

"I've been probing the spell for the last 20 minutes," Tara explained quickly. "I'm pretty sure I know how to break it, I just don't have enough power on my own. Sit with me in a triangle and hold hands." Anya only hesitated for a moment before doing as she was told. In her old life, lending her energy to another magic wielder was the last thing she would do, but this was this life.

"Do you willingly, with grace of heart and purity of intention, make a gift of your energy?" Tara asked formally.

Anya and Buffy nodded, and Anya immediately felt a gentle draw on the core of her lifeforce. She was impressed - it wasn't invasive or painful at all, and Tara's power signature reminded her of the scent of apple blossoms. Tara began chanting, eyes closed, and Anya felt the draw get a little stronger. Opening her inner channels as far as she could, she let Tara have whatever she needed.

With a surge of light shooting up from the walls of the library, Tara brought down the barrier. Buffy was up and running immediately, not even thinking of the students anymore. Her mind's eye could only see Spike's bruised and battered face after his torture at the hands of Glory, and all she knew was that she didn't want that again.

Buffy flung the doors open wide, dimly aware of Anya somewhere behind her. Running to the nearest staircase, Buffy felt like she could feel Spike, as though her vampire radar was kicking in to guide her to her ally. Without any thoughts of strategy or surprise, Buffy hurtled herself through the stacks towards where she thought Spike was. In the back of her head, she knew the Slayer-like responsible thing would be to go free the prisoners first - but somehow, she didn't care. Maybe that was her selfish non-soul making decisions, or maybe it was because pragmatically, with Spike she was stronger.

Of course, by the time she made it to the group of guards assaulting her vampire, there was no way he'd be of any use. Spike was lying on the ground, barely moving and with one of his arms at an unnatural angle that could only mean it was broken. At the sound of him whimpering, Buffy went into a rage.

"What. kind of. pathetic. evil. can't even. show. its. FACE?!" Buffy punctuated each word with a kick, sending guards crashing into shelves left and right and creating a domino effect in the stacks on one side. "Call yourself a Demon Lord?!" she howled, barely managing to make sure nothing she did was lethal - she knew these were enspelled humans but her blood was screaming with the need to hurt some enemy, any enemy. When she'd cleared all his assailants, she knelt down to Spike, still trembling with fury.

"How bad is it, Spike?" she tried to ask the question with gentleness, but could feel her frustration leaking over the words.

"Worst to me pride, pet," Spike said through rapidly swelling lips. "Feel like a twat... bunch of pimply faced students do this to me..."

"It's not your fault," Buffy laid her hand on his chest. Raising her voice again, she said, "It's that coward getting children to do the dirty work!"

"Children? They're your age, Buffy." Spike tried to chuckle, but ended up wincing.

"Ok, enough talking," Buffy commanded. "Plus, I was dead for a summer, that counts for like a whole decade at least."

"Gotta tell you... Red says the anchor is a book... don't know which." Spike's words were getting fainter and fainter. Buffy started to lean down to hear him better, but he shook his head. "Go, Buffy!"

Stubborn, proud vampire, Buffy thought to herself. He should know she wasn't leaving him, at least not before she had some idea of what particular book she was looking for, in a building devoted to the freaking things. Buffy racked her brain. Probably a book about the experiment, but which one? She'd used several in her essay. The best thing to do was probably to go to the psychology section, especially since a few of the guards were starting to stir. Buffy was surprised, since she'd knocked them out pretty hard, but when she caught a glimpse of one's eyes, she understood. The Demon Lord got to make the rules, and apparently zombie-type minions were in this game's strategy guide. So as carefully as she could, Buffy hoisted Spike into her arms. Holding the injured vampire close to her chest and trying not to knock his head or feet as she ran through the corners of the stacks, Buffy made for the thankfully still standing psychology section.

Ignoring the sounds of encroaching guards, Buffy propped Spike up and began scanning the shelves she'd pulled all her research texts from. Which one, which one... and then she saw it. Of course. Red spine, right in front of her, Zimbardo's own book: "The Lucifer Effect." Buffy set her hand on it, and felt a malevolent tingle run up her arm as she pulled it out from between the others.

"Lucifer..." the book whispered to her. "First an avenging angel, a bright tool of God... fallen from heaven, like you... now the ruler of Hell."

Buffy stared at the cover in shock. How did the Lord know that she was in heaven? And she didn't fall from heaven, she was torn out of it - or was she? Did Willow's spell work because she actually didn't belong in heaven, because it was a mistake that she was there in the first place...?

"BUFFY!" Anya interrupted her anguished questioning by appearing an aisle away. "Give it to me, I'll get it to Tara. She's weak but she thinks she can destroy it."

Buffy stared at Anya, at the book, feeling as though she was trapped in time, unable to move. Then Spike let out a groan and everything sped up again, as Buffy remembered the bloodied, vulnerable vampire at her feet. With Slayer accuracy, she tossed the book to Anya, who caught it gracefully and sprinted faster than Buffy had known she could to the staircase. A few guards chased her, but Buffy was pretty sure the ex-demon would make it out of the building.

The rest of the students with wooden batons began to cluster around her and Spike, eyes glazed with a sheen of anger and cruelty. Buffy dropped into a fighting crouch, more than ready to take on this group of regular humans. Compared to a circle of demons or vampires, they made for a fragile little piece of cake.

But just as they began to rush her, all of them collapsed. Unconscious, they fell every which way, and Buffy remembered herself just in time to catch one before he hit the back of his head on a sharp corner. She let him down to the floor gently, thinking as she did that being a prisoner in this horrible scenario would've actually been better. Not for the world would she want to wake up with the memories these people would have. Buffy felt her heart cramp as she thought especially of the blonde prisoner turned guard... was that sadism already in the girl's nature? Would Buffy herself have responded like that? Violence was her middle name, after all.

Thankfully distracting her, other sounds began to filter into Buffy's conscious - shouts and crying from other students who'd come into the building to find their friends, ambulance sirens, the false authority of Sunnydale police voices. Buffy so did not want to be there when the police got to this part of the basement. She crouched down to Spike, who was now barely conscious.

"Spike, it's done, but we need to get out of here. How did you get in? Can we leave that way?"

"Tunnels," he murmured. "Entrance through janitors closet in southeast corner."

"Got it. Going to your crypt." Buffy picked up the vampire again, trying not to joggle him. She heard him grit his teeth, and let out a slight moan. As fast as she could, Buffy slipped through the far end of the stacks, staying out of sight easily. No one was looking for someone trying to leave - everyone else wanted to get in, or was unconscious.

Once they were in the tunnels, Buffy slowed down. She walked with care, placing each foot firmly so as to not to hurt Spike more than necessary. At the first intersection, though, Buffy had to stop. She knew some parts of these tunnels just fine, but when she'd been in them most, with Angel, he'd always done the leading...

"Turn right," whispered Spike, exerting himself so he could look around.

Buffy did so, and then shifted her burden so his head was resting higher up, between her neck and collarbone. Having Spike nestled into her awoke an odd tenderness in Buffy, and she wanted to press a kiss to the top of his head. Shaking that urge off, she asked, "Can you see? You're going to have to navigate."

Spike made a noise of assent. They continued their slow process, with Spike muttering directions every once in a while and Buffy cradling him. Miraculously, they got to Spike's crypt without running into anything else, and Buffy sent up a small thanks that many demons were nocturnal - or at least, staying far away from a Demon Lord spell.

Buffy lay Spike down on his bed gingerly. She looked down at him, not sure quite what to do for a severely injured vampire. Blood, she supposed? A flashback hit her of when she'd gone to see Spike after Glory's torture, and thought that a chaste tease of a kiss was thanks enough. How could she have left him, then? Buffy shook her head. No use thinking about the past - everything was different, now. She and Spike were different.

"Buffy," Spike said, his voice a little stronger. "Sorry, but need you to do something unpleasant."

Buffy stared at him. "I want to help you, but I'm not going to give you my blood if that's what you mean."

Spike closed his eyes, and said, "I'd never ask that."

Buffy felt shame wash over her, and couldn't respond for a moment. But of course, he'd need blood, she knew that. And she knew he'd never ask for hers, why did she say stupid things all the time? "Um, sorry, I'll - uh - go get you some," she stammered out.

"No, need you to break my arm," Spike said. "Vampiric healing, started to set already, but 's wrong... gotta re-break and set right... please."

Buffy was about to open her mouth to tell Spike she didn't want to hurt him, when she thought better of it. She knew the practicality of what he was saying, and that awful please on the end made her insides hurt. Any protest would be empty, and she'd end up doing it anyway.

So instead Buffy nodded, and ran one of her hands down Spike's right arm. She found the break, grateful for the first time that Riley had taught her a bunch of this stuff "for fun," and set her hands on either side of it. She gave Spike a moment to brace himself, and then with two sharp swift movements got the bones re-aligned correctly. Spike let out a rock-crushing yell, and vamped out. Panting, he immediately tried to get his face under control, and Buffy knew it was for her. Without thinking about it, she put out her hand and stroked the bumps on Spike's forehead.

"It's ok, Spike," she murmured. "Don't force yourself. I don't care."

An incredulous, pain-filmed look, half gratitude and half distrust, smoothed the ridges out of Spike's skin and sent him back into his human face. The moment the skin was even under her fingers, Buffy jerked her hand back.

"Think I'm going to need to rest... now..." Spike was trying to hold Buffy's gaze, but the effort was too much for him and with that, his eyes rolled up into his head and he was out.

Buffy was startled by how quickly the vampire had gone from coherent to unconscious, but hoped it meant he would sleep a little. Even though she knew it wouldn't matter, Buffy pulled a blanket up to Spike's chest. She took a moment to study his face, willing it to give her some indication of what was really inside. He was such an incongruous force in her life, essentially telling her she probably didn't have a soul anymore and then the next week putting himself in harm's way to help a bunch of humans. The Spike she'd first met was gone, replaced by a new one who told terrible truths, but who would also face enemies he couldn't fight in order to stop an act of terrible violence against a stranger.

Buffy noticed that Spike's hair had lost its shape in the fighting and the carrying, and let herself brush the curls from his forehead. She wondered for the millionth time whether he truly did love her. Nothing else could really explain this transformation, his loyalty; but everything she'd ever been taught led her to believe that deep love was impossible for a creature without a soul. That vampires and demons experienced a shallower, weaker, selfish shadow of love. But Spike... Spike had protected her town, her sisters and her friends when she was dead, despite their coldness towards him. Spike had gone to get her mythical protection, despite the possibility that the price would permanently damage him. That sounded like depth of feeling to her - but according to Giles and the others, it was obsession. Buffy had to admit, that was possible. With the chip, Spike needed something to keep him going, so maybe he'd worked himself into believing he loved her?

A needling voice in Buffy's head pointed out that she didn't seem to feel anything resembling honest and open love either, these days. That if even Spike's love could only be shallow, Buffy might never experience wholeness of heart again. Not for Dawn, or Willow, or Giles, or anyone else. Spike might be the safest person for her to be around - two soulless things together, enacting the only emotions they were capable of. They were certainly on that path, Buffy thought, as sex. with. Spike. whispered itself into her brain. Sex, and some twisted form of affection and interdependence.

Buffy cut that voice off. Maybe she was soulless, but she had no idea how she felt about Spike, only that he was a good listener who was great at sex. She wasn't going to figure it out right now, so one thing at a time. Blood for the wounded vampire, and then she'd decide what was next.


	11. Chapter 11

"She's back!" yelled Dawn, as her sister walked in the door. "Buffy's here, everyone!"

Xander, Willow, and Anya piled into the living room, and Dawn realized maybe that wasn't the best thing she could've done. Everyone had just been worried about Buffy, and Dawn was used to making announcements whenever possible. The thing was, she looked way tired and the only thing Dawn really wanted to know whether Spike was ok. Anya had definitely filled them in on the rest of the details plenty.

"Uh, can I get you a diet Coke or something?" offered Dawn, trying to make up for her mistake. Buffy shot her a look, and nodded. Dawn went for the kitchen, her mother's voice in her head: it's all about getting from A to B faster, sweetie. It was Mom's way of explaining that the sooner you could figure out the best response to something, the better/easier/whatever it was. Between A and B was just a journey of knee-jerk responses and emotions that usually led to poor decisions. Dawn sighed. Was anyone under the age of like, 60, anywhere near a nice smooth trip to B?

Willow and Anya were talking over each other when Dawn got back into the living room and handed Buffy her soda. Willow was trying to give a second account of her time with Yllaine and figuring out the anchor to Buffy, and Anya was asking about Spike. Dawn was so much more about the Spike questions - but A to B, her brain reminded her.

"Hey guys, don't bombard the Buffster," she said. "Willow, why don't you finish a quick version of your side of things to Buffy? It's super interesting but you're worn out, right big sis?"

"Been a long day," said Buffy with a weak smile.

"What are you doing?" hissed Anya in Dawn's ear as Willow explained that Yllaine had counseled that instead of breaking the ice hands spell, finding the anchor was the first task, since the team would need a focus once inside blah blah blah. "Willow was boring the first time, it doesn't matter if this time is shorter, anyway it won't be. And I know you want to find out about Spike too."

"If we don't let Willow get it all out now, she'll just keep interrupting us and being pissy about Spike," Dawn whispered back. Anya's annoyed look turned to one of consideration, then surprised approval, and she nodded.

"So Yllaine used a sequential object-rendering spell to narrow the anchor down to something in the library, then in the basement, and then I finally realized it had to be a book! That was when I mindspoke Spike," Willow paused to beam at Buffy, so Dawn decided it was ok to jump in.

"Speaking of Spike, what happened to him? Did you only just get back now because you were with him?"

"Yeah," Buffy said. "You saw him, Anya - he was pretty beat up."

"Yes," stated Anya. "It was upsetting. If it weren't for the chip, Spike would have been just fine."

"If it weren't for the chip, Spike would have had a buffet," protested Xander. Dawn saw Anya shoot him an angry look, and cringed inside. She loved Xander a lot, and she was growing to like Anya a lot more than she had initially. But the truth had to be told: she liked them both a lot better separate.

"That's just not fair," Buffy was saying. "I know you guys have issues with Spike, and for good reason. But he went in there to help and to defend the prisoners, and we have to recognize that. Nothing he's done recently has been remotely evil, and honestly he was a total mess today. I carried him back to his crypt - " here Xander let out a snort "- where I had to re-break and set his broken arm, Xander Harris," Buffy finished with ice in her voice.

"So don't you even think of calling Spike a pussy or a wimp or whatever your man insult of the day is," Anya said, unnecessarily (but Dawn thought amusingly) punctuating Buffy's words.

"What is it with chicks and Spike," muttered Xander, quiet enough that Anya and Buffy could choose to ignore him, which they did.

Uncharacteristically, Willow did not jump on the hatred of Spike train, and asked in a tiny voice, "Anya said Tara helped a lot..."

"She was amazing," said Buffy, warmth all over her voice. "And so was Anya." Dawn looked at the ex-demon, who was trying very hard not to look too pleased at the compliment. "Both of them kept clear heads, Tara brought down the barrier and Anya got the book out of the library for her to destroy." Buffy smiled. "I couldn't have done anything without their help."

Dawn wanted to tell Buffy that she'd sent Spike in, but she and Xander had agreed to not mention the whole she snuck out of the house while he watched Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles instead of keeping an eye on her thing. Buffy would be mad at both of them so why not just avoid it altogether? Plus, Dawn thought sadly, it sounded like Spike had only gotten himself hurt.

"Is Tara ok?" Buffy had turned to Anya. "Was she able to destroy the book without draining herself?"

"She was very tired," said Anya authoritatively. "But I helped her back to her dorm room and brought her the grocery items she requested. Tomato juice, olives and a bagel." Anya wrinkled her nose.

"Tara likes salty food after a lot of power expenditure," said Willow, and Dawn could hear a mix of pride and yearning sadness in her voice. She guessed Willow and Tara had always taken care of each other after big spells... which made Dawn think that she should probably be thinking about taking care of a certain vampire. A certain vampire who loved her! Ok, so it had been a traumatic and upsetting day for everyone else, but Dawn was sure nobody else at school had an awesome badass VAMPIRE admit he loved them. Definitely cool points, too bad she had to keep them to herself so no one thought she was crazy.

"Could I visit Spike tomorrow?" asked Dawn. "It's a Saturday and he's my friend. If he's hurt I want to sit with him."

Buffy hesitated, and Dawn was about to start pleading when her sister took a breath and said, "I think that would be nice, Dawnie. I left him a few bags of blood tonight, but you could bring him more tomorrow." Dawn felt herself gaping and closed her mouth with a snap.

"You really think that would be nice?" she asked her sister.

"You really want to let Dawn do that?" asked Xander, at the same time.

"That's what you're worried about? Dawn visiting Spike?" Anya answered for Buffy. "Xander, the Demon Lord's first big move was to send a bunch of innocent young people insane. I think Dawn going to see a friendly wounded vampire in the middle of the day is a much smaller issue." Xander looked like he was about to tell Anya to be quiet again, but Buffy opened her mouth first.

"Insane?" she asked, and Dawn winced. She appreciated Anya helping her out, but she'd been hoping they could keep that piece from Buffy until she'd gotten a night's rest.

"Um." Anya looked reluctant, realizing what she had to tell Buffy. "Well, the students that were spelled to be guards are, uh, not doing so well."

"All of them have been placed under a 24-hour watch." Willow took pity on Anya and jumped in. "They were in shock when the ambulance arrived, and got taken to the hospital. When they got there, they all started crying and raving about what they'd done as guards. They're just very upset and need quiet. Insane is a little much, it's that the psychiatrists don't know quite where their reactions will end up."

Silence filled the living room. Dawn didn't know what to say, and looked worriedly from face to face. Buffy had gone white, but set her Coke down steadily.

"Of course they can't handle what they did," her sister made it a quiet statement. "What would they be if they could?"

Buffy waffled in front of Spike's crypt for a good ten minutes, thinking about going in. Dawn had returned from her visit as Nurse Summers the day before pretty much glowing, and Buffy was a little jealous. She wished that her relationship with Spike was a simple as Dawn's was, especially because right now Buffy just wanted to talk with him. Which she hadn't done since the chip-derived fun, which meant before their recent hot hot sex.

Spike jerked the door open, rendering Buffy's deliberations moot. She tried to look like she had just walked up, but to no avail.

"Hearing you pace out there was driving me batty," he said. "You can come in, as long as you aren't looking for a shag." He leered at her, but with bruises and cuts still shadowing his face it didn't have quite the same effect.

"I'm not," she retorted.

"Good, because -" Spike cut himself off and looked at her closely. "Because I'm not up for a whole lot yet, anyhow."

Sure enough, as the vampire turned around and led Buffy into the crypt, she could see that his arm was bound to his chest in a sling and that he was favoring his left leg. He settled into his armchair, looking grumpy.

"Don't get used to seeing me like this," Spike growled. "Before I came to Sunnyhell I hadn't been laid up in a century. Now it's a regular bloody occurrence, in no small part thanks to my misguided efforts to help you and your moronic friends."

"Testy, aren't you?" Buffy commented.

"How observant you are!" gasped Spike. "Slayer senses really upping their game, eh?"

"Ha, ha." Buffy pointed to the new, though equally shabby armchair across from Spike's. "Where'd that come from?"

"And now she's noticing changes in the environment with lightning speed," said Spike. "Whatever will we demons do?"

Buffy sighed and decided not to respond. She sat down in the armchair, finding it nice and comfy as the original.

"Tara gave it to me. She stopped by yesterday to play Florence Nightingale - just like your sis, what is it with you bints? - " Spike shook his bandaged arm at her - "and brought her own armchair." Spike shrugged. "Said she didn't need it back and I should get used to visitors, in any case. Right bossy Glinda is getting, honestly."

"Well I think it's nice of her," said Buffy. "I didn't realize you guys were friends."

"I don't have friends." Spike emphasized the word. "I have people that tolerate me."

"Not according to Dawn. She thinks you guys are the best of buds."

Buffy was startled by the sweet smile that touched Spike's lips. "Well, ok. I'll be friends with the Niblet, but the rest of you imbeciles, no thank you."

"What bee got up your ass?" Buffy was starting to get annoyed. "I came to see how you were healing and talk to you and this is what I get?"

"It's not like you don't take your pissiness out on me!" shouted Spike, and then immediately looked like he'd swallowed a bug.

Buffy wanted to shoot back with nasty, but something inside her held back. "Are you just all embarrassed because I had to carry you home?" She settled for snarky teasing, and was rewarded with a softening of Spike's demeanor.

"Are you kidding? Getting hauled home by the Slayer herself is a mark of pride," he told her. "Must mean she likes me." He waggled his eyebrows.

"Why did you pick a fight with the guards, anyhow?" Buffy changed the subject.

"It wasn't a conscious decision, pet." Spike looked sheepish. "Dunno, just wasn't thinking about the big picture and didn't wanna let anyone else get hurt."

"But you weren't going to be able to keeping help them cause of the chip," pointed out Buffy.

Spike looked exasperated. "Slayer, I've had this damn chip for what, two years out of 12 decades of undead fighting prowess. When I'm in the heat of battle it doesn't occur to me that I have a stinking bit of plastic in my brain! Not used to seeing humans as tough to fight and all."

"Hey, look, don't get upset," Buffy said. "I'm just asking. I get it, chippy chippy bang bang is a pretty new problem for you."

"Unlike you, who've been a pain in my arse since day one," said Spike, and flashed his fangs.

"Likewise," Buffy glared at him because she felt she had to. Then she sighed. "Ok, I didn't mean to bug you. It was just hard, I mean, I don't know if Dawn or Tara told you but a view of the basement was being projected on the front of the building... I didn't like watching you defenseless. It - " Buffy got up and began to pace. She wanted to tell him the truth. "It hurt, to see you like that."

Spike regarded her, eyes suddenly deep with the full weight of a semi-immortal existence. "Thank you for coming to get me, Buffy." His words lived in the world between them for a moment, and Buffy could hear all the things he meant by that one seemingly innocuous phrase. She didn't know when she'd become so attuned to him, but she could hear the love and remembered pain from her death in his voice. At the same time as she wanted to respond with a touch of her hand to his face, or even a quiet kiss of reassurance, she was thinking about all the defenseless people he'd killed over the years - maybe even in front of their loved ones, who knew? And if she could get past that knowledge to feel something deeper for him, what would that mean about her?

"Speaking of people not able to defend themselves," Spike's voice was overly casual as he interrupted a silence that had grown too long, "how about your sister?"

"What about her?"

"Asked her yesterday, and she said you're still thinking about whether or not to teach her how to fight. That's a right fool thing to hold off on, Slayer."

"You're the one that encouraged her in the first place! I don't want my sister thinking she can put herself in danger just because she knows how to throw a few punches."

"Come on! You're smarter than that, kitten. Dawn lives on the hellmouth, with a superhero sister - explain to me how you think she's not already in danger?" Spike waited for a beat while Buffy searched for the words. She wasn't fast enough, so he continued. "Your sister isn't about to go haring off in search of a scuffle. But she might come across one, and you and I aren't always around, eh? So give her the tools to protect herself, what if you'd had to watch her completely defenseless on an oversized telly?"

Buffy imagined Dawn being surrounded, only knowing how to flail at her attackers. She knew Spike had a point, but... "Spike, it's just that - I will never have a normal life, ever. I just. I just wanted Dawn to get to be a typical teenager, no weaponry training at 16 or anything like that."

"Normal life... you've been fed that twaddle all your life, haven't you? What is so bloody great about a normal life? Creative types spend their entire lives writing, painting, making songs about the exceptions. The extraordinary. And you're just about as exceptional and extraordinary as they come now, aren't you? What keeps you from embracing that, love?"

"There are downsides to an extraordinary life!" Buffy knew her voice was high-pitched, but felt powerless to bring it back down. "I've died twice, who else can say that? No to mention that nobody ever sticks around except Xander and Willow, and sometimes I wish they wouldn't!"

Buffy stopped herself, shocked. She'd never said anything like that before about her friends, never even let herself have the full thought that sometimes they were burdensome. But now that it was out... sometimes she did wonder how much easier things would be without Xander's censure and Willow's neediness.

"You think people with a normal life don't feel that way?" Now Spike sounded sympathetic. "You may have died twice, but you've never had to wonder if you might be the most insignificant person on the earth. You've never had to entertain the idea that you have no talent and nothing special about you. And when you're 60, you won't look back and wonder if you wasted your life."

"Won't make it to 60," mumbled Buffy.

"You will if I have anything to say about it," Spike said, firm and clear.

"Please," scoffed Buffy. "you aren't going to be around for the next 38 years."

"Yes, I will." Spike was steady, in voice and his regard of her. "You may not want to be around me, but I'll be there. I'll protect you as long as I can."

Buffy could make no flippant or needling response to that. Spike was dead serious, and had all the skills and the years to back up what he'd said. If he'd loved and cared for an insane vampire like Drusilla for well over a century, the rest of her paltry human lifespan was well within his concept of the future. Even Giles had said it: Spike wasn't going to leave anytime soon. Buffy turned to Spike, wanting to get closer to him, taking refuge in his words.

"We do have to get one thing straight though, pet," Spike said and threw up his hands as Buffy neared him. She stopped, taken aback. "No more sex."

"Was I not good?" Buffy blurted, and clapped a hand over her mouth. How had that gotten out? What she should've said was 'Not planning on it' or 'No problem' or something equally flippant but - hadn't Spike wanted to have sex? He had so much more experience than her, that was the only thing she could think of to make him... reject her.

"No no no, pet," he was waving his hands as if to dispel her words like a cloud of gnats. "You were. Well, you were fantastic, don't be daft. You've got enough passion to make me feel like me heart's beatin', that how great you were."

"Then... I mean... it's not a big deal to me but... why not?"

Spike sighed. "Because I love you. And you don't love me. I'm just a bit of meat to you, you made that right clear the second time round with the instant scarper. And while I'd follow you to the ends of the earth and back, while I'd rather be pulled apart with hot pincers forever than see anything happen to you, I can't just do whatever you want when it comes to things between us."

"What do you mean?" whispered Buffy, confused and feeling a discordant hum begin inside her. Whatever Spike was saying, something felt all wrong.

"I have self-respect, Slayer," Spike said. "And mind you, I don't mean in some sort of repressed knees locked way. Having crazy passionate sex with someone just for fun is a great idea, not wrong or immoral at all, ok? I hate all that bollocks about sex being the same as love, that if you want a good time it means you've got 'issues.' Urgh! Some things about America I'll take but that bloody Puritan undercurrent belongs as far up the soddin' ass of history as possible." Spike paused, and Buffy felt like under other circumstances Spike getting sidetracked like that would've made her laugh. Not this time.

"Anyway," Spike continued, "what I mean is that I can't be your sex toy. Not with me in love and you in lust - it'll wear both of us down. To be in love you have to love yourself first, and I wouldn't even like myself too well if I just kept along shagging you, making myself believe it meant something when obviously it doesn't. Couldn't ever be what you need if I was the sort of man who let himself be used."

The jangling feeling in her bones was was so strong Buffy could barely breathe, hardly think. She didn't know - did it mean nothing? She wasn't in love with Spike, that was for sure, but nothing? The memory of him falling asleep in her lap rose to her mind. That meant something to her, it did. And she had liked flirting, trading kisses back and forth. That meant... affection between them. But the sex, he was right. It was just a distraction. She'd been using him, and she'd known it from the start. But for some reason, all the compunctions she'd usually have had were just... gone. All the buzzing in her chest stopped with a snap, and Buffy felt nauseous.

"I understand, Spike," she said, straightening as far as she could and nodding with a curt acceptance. "I'll stay away from you from now on."

"That's not what I asked for," Spike said, but Buffy was leaving. The beginning of tears were giving her eyes pins and needles, like they were a limb that hadn't been used in too long. She couldn't let him see her cry, not after that.

"Why do you have to be so right all the time?" Buffy choked out, at the door but unable to leave quite yet. "Right about me, Dawn, everything."

"What do you mean, right about you?" Spike didn't sound confused - he sounded like he was looking for something from her.

The tears went away as Buffy bristled at the idea that he wanted her to repeat that she was on his level now: soulless and wrong because yes he was right, she was using him. Was that the point of this whole self-respect schtick, to get her to admit that she was no better than he was? Was he just manipulating her?

"You know," Buffy said, finding her voice. A need to be cruel had swelled in her, brushing aside the voice of reason and her hurt. "Right that I'm probably going to join you in hell."

Buffy didn't wait for Spike's response. She saw confusion and pain cross his face for a moment before she went out into the chilly night, and took a grim pleasure in it. He could make all the noble speeches he wanted, but if she could never forget that being soulless doomed her to eternal torment, then neither should he.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike was finally sober, after about a week of being drunk. Taking the time to recuperate wasn't his bag to begin with, and after that last conversation with Buffy - the one where she closed herself off as solidly as possible and said they were both going to hell, THAT one - he'd had to self-medicate good and proper. Luckily for the boozy, still weak vampire, Tara had been coming to visit him, bringing bags of blood each time... until two days ago. That time, she'd come into the crypt and dumped cold water on his head as he lay blitzed out of his mind in his armchair. She'd told him sternly and without the hint of a stammer that he'd better get himself together, and that when he felt like dealing with whatever was wrong like a grown-up he knew where to find her.

While Spike wasn't ashamed of drinking himself into oblivion (it was one of his hobbies, after all), the witch's point that he was doing it for immature reasons stung. Hadn't he just acted all mature by refusing to sleep with Buffy, and had it blow up in his face? He wasn't even sure exactly where all his poncy speech had come from, just that when Buffy started to come towards him something deep inside of him had panicked. He wouldn't be able to say no once physical contact had been initiated, he knew that much, so Spike had seized the moment to explain how he felt. Some of it - such as that bloody have to love yourself to love someone else nonsense - had just come flying out of his mouth from another stinking dimension, but most of it was true.

Of course, that didn't take away the grinding feeling in his stomach from the end of their little chat. Spike had no idea how Buffy had gone from him saying "don't wanna shag you because I love you" to hearing "you came back without a soul and are going to hell." In some of his more lucid moments, in between handles of good old golden rotgut whiskey, Spike had been furious. Stupid bint, taking everything he said the wrong way! The vampire distinctly remembered lurching around his apartment, pretending to be Buffy willfully misunderstanding whatever he had to say. Which, he had to admit, was probably immaturity to the hilt.

Tara's words had also sobered Spike up enough that he remembered a Demon Lord was in town, and messing with his girl. Mopey contrarian that Buffy was these days, Spike's love for her vibrated through the very core of his being, and he wasn't about to let a puffed up magician get her. He couldn't protect Buffy, or even help by earning money for her, while he was off his nut on liquor.

And so here he was, at Tara's door, both to try and make good with the witch and to get more help for his Slayer. Spike hunched his shoulders and made himself knock, hoping she'd meant her offer to help him deal. In his experience, most humans said things in the moment that they didn't really mean and had no intention of following through on.

The moment she opened the door for him, Spike knew Tara was not one of those humans. Nothing at all hesitant or displeased crossed the witch's face when she saw him standing there. Instead, he could feel her openness and sweet nature wash over him like a cool sea.

"You're up!" Tara said. "And you decided to come at a normal hour," she grinned. "No 3 am hammering on my door this time?"

"It isn't 3 am yet," said Spike, giving Tara his own crooked smile. "You don't know, I could be back."

"Well, it would be ok if you did, Spike." Tara pulled the door wide open. "Wanna come in?"

"Actually, would it be weird to ask you to go on a walk with me?" Spike wanted to be out, in his element, shaking off the dust of his crypt. "I can't bite you, chip's honor." He made a sketchy version of a Boy Scout salute.

"Sure," Tara laughed. "I don't think you'd bite me even without the chip, you know that. Don't go digging for compliments, Bloody Billy."

"Bloody Billy?" Spike squawked as Tara dodged into her room to get a sweater and her keys. "I just might bite you anyway if you call me that again!"

"A nickname is a sign of affection," teased Tara. "What should I call you? Billy the vamp? Spikaroo? Blondie bear?"

Spike rolled his eyes and offered Tara his arm. "Say what you want, but Harmony had a creativity all her own. You, however, gotta come up with something better than any of those."

"Consider it a challenge," said Tara, taking his arm.

Spike was about to start his own ridiculous litany of potential nicknames for the witch, when a voice interrupted them.

"Finally playing on the right team now, huh sweet tits?" a semi-inebriated boy had stopped his lurching down the hallway right in front of them. "If you want a bigger man than Billy Idol over here later, I'm right across the hall." The kid leaned in and Spike considered punching him, but remembered the chip just in time. "All dykes secretly love cock, don't you bitches? Fucking gay freaks."

That, Spike couldn't let go. He dropped Tara's arm and advanced, backing the kid up into a wall. Spike put his hands on either side of the guy's head, walling him in without any intent to hurt him... physically.

"You know what I really want to know?" Spike asked, pleasantly. The boy shook his head nervously. "I want to know if wankers like you don't know anything about history. You know anything about history? I'm guessing no, because if you did, you'd see that bigots don't fare too well in the history books. Books're on the side of progress, get it? Racist bastards like the KKK, those silly fucks who wanted to get rid of all the Jews, men who thought women shouldn't be allowed to own property or vote... well we all know they were turdmunchers now, don't we?" Spike brought his face even closer. "We all know they were scared pathetic buggers, worried that their insular little worlds were going to be destroyed, don't we? DON'T WE?" The kid nodded, jerky and terrified. Spike smiled like a serial killer, a look he'd developed to inspire maximum fear in his victims many decades ago. "So I suggest that you consider how history might remember you, lad... that is, if you survive long enough to make a mark." Spike flashed in and out of game face fast enough to make it almost a subliminal message, and stood up straight. He sauntered back to Tara and offered her his arm as the boy puddled to the floor.

The witch took it silently, and held on a little tighter than she had before. They left the dorm without speaking further, and Spike hoped she wasn't angry at him.

"It happens all the time," Tara said, when they emerged outside. "I wouldn't say I'm used to it, and I'd be lying if I said I never thought of turning those guys into cockroaches." She paused. "Thank you for not using violence against that boy."

"Wish I could say it was cause I knew you wouldn't like it Glinda, but it was the chip stopped me," Spike said. "Still, I can be plenty scary without slamming people around... although it's not as much fun." He grinned, trying to lighten the mood.

"I know violence is the way you usually solve problems," Tara wouldn't be deterred. "I accept that, it's part of who you are. I just wanted to say that chip or no chip, I appreciate you not trying to use it to address one of my problems."

"Not your problem. His problem. World's problem. Stupid repressive society's problem. NOT your problem."

Tara laughed, then, and pressed a kiss to Spike's cheek. He almost stopped their ambling walk, it surprised him so much. First Dawn, now Tara with the spontaneous displays of caring? What other planet had he stumbled onto?

"Oh, come on, Spike," Tara teased. "It's not like I just asked you to prom, what is that look on your face?"

"Just surprised," he mumbled. "Not used to it."

"Spike, just because Buffy and the others don't see you for the good man you are doesn't mean you don't deserve affection."

"Not good!" protested Spike. " Not man! Evil, evil, evil demon remember that Witchlet!"

"Sure, sure," Tara rolled her eyes. "But it is that, isn't it? That made you need to drink the entire Jameson distillery?"

"You mean that Buffy doesn't see me as a force for good?" Spike laughed, hard and bitter. "Nope, used to THAT. It's that... oh, bugger it."

"What? What? Tell me."

"Look, I'm going to tell you, but you can't let Buffy know I've spilled the beans," Spike pressed Tara. Narrowing her eyes, the witch nodded with her gaze on Spike's face. "Buffy and I... well, we were shagging."

"Oh," Tara said, eyes wide. "You and Buffy have... had... sex?"

"Twice - well, three times, two sessions, you get the idea - and it was only on the second go that I figured what was up."

"And what was up?" Tara asked, and then coughed. "I mean, other than... little Spike."

Spike laughed for a moment, but felt himself dragged back down into the mire of his mess with Buffy pretty quickly. "She was using me. Only wanted me as a distraction, or to punish herself, something godawful. It was after Buffy got the idea she didn't have a soul, thanks to yours truly. I know it sounds ridiculous, but we had a bit of a good friendship going there for a while, and after the chip not working for her... we stopped talking. Only interaction we had was the sex. She snuck away while I was asleep after the first time and wouldn't talk to me after the second."

"But you thought she was developing feelings for you," Tara breathed, looking so sympathetic Spike thought he was hallucinating.

"Of course, because I'm a right berk," he ground out. "I thought it was a step, anyhow. But it wasn't, and so I told her we couldn't get our jollies on anymore when she came to see me after the library crap."

"You told her... no more sex? Wow, Spike."

"What's wow about it?" he demanded, irritable. "Bloody stupid, probably, but the thing is, there was some good stuff between us. Comfort, and chit chat, the odd bit of affection even. And that was what felt right, what I wanted. Sex felt great, until I realized it was even less intimate than a chat with a tombstone."

"Just that it takes some willpower to say no to someone you love like that," Tara said, and squeezed Spike's arm.

"You did it, with Red," Spike said. "I would die for Buffy, but if I'm going to live - eh, you know what I mean - I have to preserve myself. Just like you."

"I guess you're right," Tara let it out with a sigh.

The two continued walking for a while, spiraling through the leafy green paths. Spike found it comforting to just exist in the same place with Tara, who understood him so well. She'd taken his revelation about the physical side of things with Buffy in stride, which was still remarkable to him. If he lived another hundred and twenty years, he'd never meet a more open-minded and nurturing human. Relaxed in their silence, vampire and witch eventually came back towards Tara's dorm building. The yellow lights warmed the entrance, and Spike drew them to a stop just as they came into its range.

"You'd have told me if you figured out whether or not Buffy still has a soul, yeh?" he asked.

"Of course," Tara replied. "I'd be over at Casa Spike in a flash. I'm sorry I don't have more for you - I can't even find a spell that shows whether or not someone has a soul with any confidence." She shrugged. "I'll keep looking, but it's a complex area of study."

"Yeah, I know," Spike said. "Just thought I'd ask. Oh - and, sorry to ask more of you, know you have schoolwork and the lot, but do you know a spell to keep nightmares away?"

"Easy," said Tara, surprised. "It's just a satchet of warding under your pillow. Are you having bad dreams, Spike?"

"No." He shook his head. "Last night, after you'd... snapped me out of it, I went to check on the Summers house. Unobtrusive, of course, didn't want Buffy to see me. But I heard her, havin' nightmares."

"Heard her? From outside?"

"Yeah, vampiric hearing," Spike shrugged. "Anyway, knew she was having nightmares weeks ago, forgot cause I'm a selfish twit, and can't go help with things the way they are between us. So can you make that charm and give it to Dawn? Niblet can say she heard Buffy in the night or some such. It'll be a sweet sisterly gesture and nothing to link it to me."

"Sure," Tara said. "I'll do it tonight. And Spike? I hope you won't be offended by me giving you a little advice, but I suggest you keep staying out of Buffy's sight. Let her come to you."

"Not offended," Spike responded wearily. "Makes good sense. Doubt she'll be coming to me anytime soon, but thanks for that."

Tara didn't say anything, just put her arms around the vampire. He was startled again, but let himself return the hug. It was a long, calming embrace, and Tara gave him a little squeeze before she finally let go.

"Night, Spike," she said, and he watched her go through the lit entrance. Once inside the glass doors, she turned and gave him a little wave, then continued up the stairs.

Spike knew he didn't deserve to have someone like Tara supporting him, but boy was he glad of her. He shook his head and headed off. That was the thing about humanity - you thought you had a bead on 'em all, and then they turned around and surprised you.

"You're getting much more coordinated," Buffy praised, as Dawn wiped the sweat from her eyes.

"Yes," said Anya. "That last sequence defending against strangling from behind was very good. I'm impressed by your progress, Dawn."

"You're looking good too, An," Buffy clapped the ex-demon on the back and went to get some water. "I think we're going to call it a day here, any objections?"

"Nope," her two students chorused, and Buffy felt something of a smile cross her face.

When she'd cooled down from her post-Zimbardo encounter with Spike, Buffy had seen the sense in teaching her sister how to fight. Spike's words had jarred something in her, and she'd realized that refusing to teach Dawn to fight would be replicating the same behavior Buffy had thrown in Giles's face when he left. Doing what he thought was best for her, without taking her opinion into account - it was just like Buffy insisting Dawn lead a normal life when that wasn't what her sister wanted. So Buffy had told Dawn they could start training together, which led to many squeals from the teenager. Their first session in the training room at the Magic Box, Anya had come in to watch, and Buffy found herself inviting the ex-demon to join in. Anya had been thrilled - Buffy suspected more from being included by someone not Xander than by the prospect of learning self-defense - and here they were.

In a few short weeks, both her trainees had learned a lot. Buffy was pleasantly surprised by how committed and ready to work Dawn and Anya were. She'd always seen them as anti-physical activity, more interested in shopping and their hair than weaponry - but Buffy should've known those two sides could co-exist, since they used to for her. Buffy was also surprised at how much she enjoyed teaching, even though neither of her students had superpowers. There was something calming, almost meditative, in breaking down her moves into manageable chunks for practice. Buffy found herself joining in when Dawn and Anya settled into basic repeats, more to lose herself in familiar motion than for her own training.

Buffy supposed she owed Spike a thank you, but she hadn't seen him. He was obviously staying away from her, and Buffy was too proud to go after him. He'd rejected her, and whether it was a ploy to get her to admit they were the same or not, Buffy wasn't about to be the first to go crawling back. The thing was, the more she thought about what he'd said, the more she thought he probably wasn't looking for her to admit anything. Spike's words plus the look in his eyes when she'd run off after their second time together added up to him telling the truth - he just couldn't handle the physical intimacy if she didn't love him back. Which Buffy knew was fair and right, but some awful part of her still couldn't forgive him for having more principles than she had - for being strong enough to step away from her when she just kept drawing closer to him like a moth to the flame. It just proved that she had come back wrong, when a soulless demon could be more conscientious than the Slayer.

While the idea that she might not have a soul was still a toxic, smothering oil slick over the river of her life, Buffy found herself much more able to handle it now that she was sleeping better. Dawn had come back from one of her afternoon dates with Tara with a little bag of pale green silk for Buffy. It turned out her sister had heard Buffy having the terrible nightmares that kept her from ever getting a solid rest, and had gone to Tara. Buffy felt stupid for not thinking to ask Tara for help beforehand, and gratefully accepted the gift. It worked beautifully, and between uninterrupted hours of sleep and having a non-patrol purpose from training Dawn and Anya, Buffy felt her apathy receding.

"I think we should go shopping tomorrow afternoon," said Anya. She'd changed back into her regular clothes and was waiting at the door of the studio for Buffy to quit daydreaming. "Buffy, you are still very beautiful but you need a serious fashion update."

"What Anya means," Dawn cut in hastily, "is that you haven't gotten anything new in forever! And shopping is fun, remember?"

"Yes, that is exactly what I mean," Anya plowed ahead. "Shopping is fun and you need some clothes that aren't boring and neutral colored."

Buffy shook her head fondly. Now that she was spending more time with Anya, the ex-demon's candor had turned out to be refreshing, in the same way Spike's was. Maybe before she'd have taken offense, but now she loved when Anya called it like she saw it.

"I would love to, guys, but I can't afford it," Buffy said with regret. "You're right, I haven't been shopping since I got back, and it would be fun to transform into mall girl for a little bit again. But I just don't have any money - which means neither do you, Dawn."

"Well goodness, I'll lend you some," Anya said. "Nobody ever wants to go shopping with me, and I think it's sad that I've never experienced that human ritual of a 'girl's day out.'"

Buffy hesitated. She couldn't accept money from Anya that she had no way of paying back. It was starting to look like if she didn't just go ahead and get a job working in fast food or something, she'd never have any income. But it made her sad, the idea that Anya had never really had girlfriends to hang out with before.

"Uhhh," Dawn looked queasy. "Look, Buffy, I know you won't like this, but we have some money."

"What?" Buffy asked, startled.

"I'm not sure why you guys aren't talking, but Spike gave me an envelope of money for you yesterday. I went to visit and Tara was there and we hung out and at the end he said he wanted to help us out." The teenager went to her backup and pulled out a thick envelope. "I wasn't sure how to give it to you, but I guess now is better than never."

Buffy opened the envelope and yelped. "Dawn, there is $3,000 in here! You were just carrying this around in your backpack?"

"Yeah," Dawn nodded, looking sheepish.

"Great, now we can go shopping," Anya said happily. "I'll pick you both up at noon, and we can get lunch on the way! Oh, I'm so excited. Can we get manicures?"

"Hold on, Anya." Buffy put her hand up. "Dawn, we can't take this money. Who knows where Spike got it? It could be stolen."

"He knew you'd say that," Dawn said, looking a little annoyed. "He knows you don't trust him, so he had Tara put a truth spell on him and then he said he got a job. The job pays pretty well, and then he plays poker - fairly he said - to multiply his paycheck. The light from the spell never wavered, until he said he was also donating to the Little Snotty Orphan Society." Dawn grinned. "Then it disappeared."

Buffy smiled in spite of herself. Spike working, huh? She wondered where.

"He said to tell you this is just for now," Dawn continued. "He said he knows you'll find a good job soon, and that he doesn't want you pressured into taking some kind of junk job at a chain restaurant or something."

Of course Spike knew what she was thinking, he always did. Buffy shook her head and thought of all the reasons she should not accept Spike's help. He loved her, right, wasn't this taking just as much advantage as having sex with him? Buffy looked at her sister and her friend, who were watching her hopefully. They clearly didn't see any issue with taking the money, and Buffy remembered having absolutely zero qualms about cashing Giles's check. The thought that it was best to trust people to make their own decisions trickled into her head, and Buffy realized that was the difference. She had instigated the sex, while Spike was offering financial help of his own free will.

"Ok," Buffy said. "I'll take this for now, and pay Spike back at some point."

"Soooooo, shopping?" asked Dawn. Anya stood behind her mimicking painting her nails and hefting heavy bags, and Buffy had to laugh.

"Ok, ok, we'll go shopping tomorrow. But on a budget, alright?!" Buffy gathered up her stuff and headed for the door, still smiling.

"Buffy," Dawn said with big eyes. "You laughed. You haven't laughed in... forever."

"Definitely not so much with the chuckles recently," Anya agreed.

"Well, um I guess... you guys are too silly for me not to," Buffy said lamely. It was weird to think that the two of them had noticed that. She guessed she should've given them more credit. Maybe because Willow hadn't seemed to care about her malaise, it had been easy to assume that nobody else would. Definitely not her kid sister and Xander's money-loving fiancee... except now she knew that was unfair. With a little bit of guilt, Buffy gave Dawn a hug and smiled at Anya. It was bad to tar every with the same brush, she should know that by now.


End file.
